


The Plum Palace

by Anne_Autumn



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Come Eating, Control Issues, Depression, Disability, Face-Fucking, Kink Negotiation, Language, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Nat gets to Steve in a way no one else can, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Rimming, Slowish Slow Burn, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Topping from the Bottom, lots of discussion of mental health, roller skating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-07-31 12:48:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 22,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20115349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne_Autumn/pseuds/Anne_Autumn
Summary: “You don’t work out in your Captain America suit do you?”“No,” he chuckles. “only with Tony.”Bucky gives a smile that looks a bit disappointed.---Steve needs some space and a gym outside the tower. Bucky is a veteran who owns a Brooklyn gym.Takes place in 2014. The battle of New York happened. Nat isn't an Avenger, but Hope Van Dyne is.





	1. Steve

**Author's Note:**

> Things are different. (ex: Tony and Steve know about Wakanda and the history of vibranium even though it’s only 2014. Peggy lives in NYC.) Roll with it. 
> 
> I'm also terrible at chapter titles so have just listed the POV for each.

“Tony, if you can’t find me a gym…”

“There’s 27 gyms in this building. You’re telling me none of them work for your delicate little flower body?”

“You have color coded gyms, multi-floor obstacle courses, VR sparring rings - with robots, condenced weights.... I’m telling you I need to find someplace outside the building. It’s either a gym or an apartment. You pick.”

“Alright, alright. There is a vet who owns a gym over in Brooklyn. Go talk to him see if you like the space. See if it meets your apparently unrealistically low needs.”

Steve smiles. “Brooklyn is perfect.”

“Just don’t run there, please.”

\---

Of course he’s going to run there. Just not the first time.

Steve takes his bike over to the address. It’s a nondescript building with a small sign on the door that says ‘Plum Fitness.’ Steve was sure Tony had been joking when he told him the name. The imagery of a plum isn’t exactly a great marketing tool and neither is the outside of the building. But if James Barnes is catering to ex-military, Steve is guessing that most of them will have an “odd” sense of humor and that most of his business is word-of-mouth anyway.

Once inside there’s much better signage. It shows multiple floors, describes where classes are held, what machines are where, where the bathrooms are and where the elevator is. It is all in a clear font, accompanied by brail. The hallways are wide and clear of equipment. It is obviously meant to be an accessible space that is easy to navigate. 

Steve follows the signs for the office. He’s impressed with the space so far and it feels much more comfortable than anything has in a long time. He’s betting he will be able to find and modify the equipment that he needs, but if he can’t get along with the owner, then there’s no point in even looking.

The office door is closed, locked with a sign on the front that says “Bucky is Out.” And then smaller text, continuing _“But probably somewhere in the building. Call him if you must, 917-555-3555.”_

Steve remains encouraged looking around. There are several patrons in the first room. It looks very well stocked with most of the machine options available. There’s a woman in a sports wheelchair using free weights. A man who looks to be in his 50s on the treadmill. Two individuals on a mat doing what appears to be tai chi. They all look comfortable in the space. They pay Steve no mind.

Steve takes the stairs up to the next floor where the gym is empty except for a man and woman standing and talking. The woman has long red hair in a braid down her back. She’s small and fit and Steve thinks she must be a trainer, but probably not the owner in question.

She’s beautiful and striking but it’s the man who takes Steve’s breath away. 

His brunette hair is tied together at the nape of his neck. A black framing device fits snugly around his left arm. It isn’t very bulky and doesn’t seem to impede his movement and looks like an exoskeleton.

A gray a-frame shirt fits loosely on him. Black athletic shorts show off what seems to be massively strong, muscular legs. He’s referring to something on the clipboard to the woman in front of him, not aggressively, but with a bit of a smirk. Steve’s stomach lurches up into his throat. He’s betting this is the owner - and that he might be in trouble.

Steve leans against the wall, waiting for them to finish and to steady his breath. The woman walks past him and gives him a knowing, respectful nod.

Steve straightens up and walks over to the owner. “James Barnes?” he asks. The man nods and stretches out his hand.

“Call me ‘Bucky,’” he says. “You must be Captain Rogers.”

Steve blushes, making Bucky’s eyes linger on his face for a moment. “‘Steve,’ please.”

“Like what you’ve seen so far?” he asks. 

_Yes._

Steve nods.

“Tony’s got just about anything I could ask for. Great sparring partners, too. But the feel just isn’t right. This feels right.”

Now it’s Bucky’s turn to blush, although it fades almost immediately.

“Glad to hear it. But we do have a few rules. The biggest being _‘mind your own business.’ _ I’m a little worried about you with that one.”

A huge grin spreads across Steve’s face. “There’s a time and place for everything. I can behave.”

Bucky bites his lip but continues, “No ranks. The ‘captain’ I just have you will be your last. We also do need each other’s help from time to time. I’m sure you can tell most of the clientele are vets. But there are no formal support groups here - although we do give references. Everyone is different. A lot of people just want to be left alone. Nat, the other trainers, and I have ways of working with people at the pace they need. We do pull people aside if necessary. But you have to know you can’t fix everyone's problems here.”

“Believe it or not, I am getting better about that.”

“Good. I’ve got also got the normal ‘don’t be stupid and lift too much’ rule, which may not be applicable for you. Wipe down the machines. We have classes up on the third floor, but a lot of time they’ll be group workouts that happen anywhere. Be respectful of people’s space and you should be fine.”

Bucky continues, “Our dues are sliding scale depending on need. I’ve already got you down for top of scale but Tony also mentioned after hours access.”

“Yes. That would be helpful.”

“It’s actually a request we get a lot. Insomnia, night terrors, and PTSD episodes are not reserved for suped up superheroes. We basically only close from midnight to four. You’d be the first client I’d give a key to for those hours in between. You’ve got to prove yourself first and I’ll consider it.”

He continues “Did you bring workout clothes?”

“No. Wanted to check out the place first.”

“You don’t work out in your Captain America suit do you?”

“No,” he chuckles. “only with Tony.”

Bucky gives a smile that looks a bit disappointed. “All right. No paperwork for now. I think I can trust you and I certainly know how to find you. And if you cause trouble I know I can take it up with Tony, who’s ribbing I’m sure would be punishment enough.”

“Thank you. I’ll be in tomorrow.”

They smile and shake hands.

Steve feels good and is excited about the prospect of returning the next day. But his buoyancy fades just a little as he turns away from Bucky to leave.

\---

The moment Steve steps onto his floor at the tower he gets a call from Tony. “So would you think of my bionic man’s place?”

“Place looks great. Bucky does too, uh, I -“

“He is, isn’t he? A beautiful man. Can’t even argue. Almost gives me a run for the money. But will the Plum Palace let you work out your issues outside of Jarvis’s reach?”

“Yes, should work.”

“Good. Pep wants you hear for dinner in 20. Shower first.”

Steve starts to explain that he didn’t actually work out, but Stark is already gone. 

\---

The next two weeks are a joy Steve has not experienced in a very long time.

On his second day as an actual patron, he brings reinforced chains from Tony for the punching bags. On the third, he brings (via the subway) some techy, adjustable, condensed weights. He asks Nat before modifying the bags and about the weights. He leaves them both for any other patrons to use, but very clearly labels the weights with how heavy they really are and how to adjust them. 

He goes every day, running the three and a half miles as a warm up, taking a slightly different route every time, but keeping the overall distance about the same. On the way back he stretches the run through different parts of the borough from four to seven or even ten miles, exploring how the neighborhoods have changed over the years. 

He sees Bucky only about half the time. 

Most of the other patrons recognize him but don’t make a deal out of it. The gym is loose, sometimes with quiet conversation, sometimes silent except for the requisite heavy breathing and slap of feet on treadmills. The gym on the second floor usually has music going, with a stereo in the corner where patrons can plug in their phones or MP3 players. 

He talks with some of the other patrons in the halls. 

He meets Sandra, an army vet and the woman he saw the first day working the free weights in her wheelchair. She asks him why he wasn’t strong enough to stay little, why he needed the serum. She’s clearly joking, but he also gets a bit of _‘what the fuck, little bodies can have big impact…’_ but maybe Steve’s just projecting. 

Julián has been in the Marines for 10 years. He doesn’t volunteer his rank (no ranks in the ‘Plum Palace’ - _ damit Tony_). He has a tremendous pride for his work, even though it is accented with lots of gray and qualifiers, seemingly to justify his continued service.

And then there’s Carmen, a trans vet who he sees almost every day as he leaves. She makes a point of introducing herself and asks if he was confused by the blurring of gender lines and the additional freedom and choices of clothing and makeup. It is the nicest “are you a bigot?” inquisition, he’s ever received. Steve expresses his enthusiasm that so many things are better in the future, but that there are still a lot of the same challenges and hatred. Steve shared his desire (a relatively bland one) to be more ambitious about his clothing choices, but that has really just been following direction... just not from Tony. 

Some of them thank him. Not for his service exactly, but for staying around and staying alive. They compliment a lucky escape from a falling Chitari whale or a particularly graceless fall down the side of a building. They ask him if he has to train to stay fit and agile, or if it's really just to stay busy. Most of the time Steve tries to get the other patrons to talk about themselves, but it only works about 30% of the time. Not because they are starstruck, but because just like him, most are trying to avoid talking about themselves. 

Bucky seeks Steve out on his 14th workout day and asks him to come back to the office. It’s basically a large closet, but one wall is covered in shelving filled with a huge variety of books: self-help, romance, classic fiction, accounting, recovery, history, nutrition.

Bucky breaks his distraction, “$500 a month and you can have a key. You’ll have to sign away one of your nine lives and if you damage anything, I’ll sue you for all of that gov and Stark money you’ve got.”

“You also might see my light on in here some nights,” he continues. “Pay me no mind. Bills don’t pay themselves.”

Steve thanks him and takes the key.

\---

The next morning at his normal time (5:45 A.M.), Natasha greets him on his way in. 

“Heard you are official now. We’re glad to have you. Everyone’s used to you, but you don’t have to come every day. You can take a break.”

“Thanks. I like it here. I’ll take a day off next year.”

She takes pity on him and shows him a glimpse of amusement. “Let me know if you need any pointers. Or someone to spar with.”

“Are you saying I need pointers?” Steve asks. 

“What you are doing is clearly working for you, but your form… you can’t rely on that serum forever.” 

“Damn, Natasha. Do you have time now?”

“I’ve got a client at 6:00. How about tomorrow? Or you can check with Bucky. I’m pretty sure he’s available.”

Steve contains his inner freak out at at the idea of Bucky being “available” and deflects the question with his own. “Did you serve?”

“Yes,” and after a very long pause “it wasn’t for the U.S. and it wasn’t exactly voluntary.”

“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t push any further, but wonders where. She has no trace of an accent. 

“It's fine. Bucky doesn’t give a shit. The specifics of anyone’s history here only matter so far as they impact a person’s health and wellbeing. Bucky cares about process, dedication, and loyalty, now and in the future. What’s past is past. It’s not a philosophy that works in every part of life, but it does in here. That’s why I’m surprised he’s giving you after hours access. Special treatment usually isn’t his thing.”

Steve realizes she’s right. He’s paying for it, but Bucky had said others wanted access, too.

“Tomorrow, 5:45 A.M.?” he asks.

“Fourth floor. See you then.”

For now he heads to the second floor, avoiding Bucky and his creeping thoughts about him. He’s alone and able to drown out his thoughts with a little help from ACDC and Ke$ha.

\---

Nat has Steve start on the punching bag. His form is solid and tight, but Nat pokes anyway. 

“Who are you fighting?”

“No, one,” Steve says as he continues to punch.

“Schmidt? 

“Loki? 

“Peggy?”

He blows past the bag with a punch to the air. Recovering, he looks at Natasha. 

“What?”

“She got old on you. Lived a life without you.”

“She deserved to.”

“So? That means you can’t be angry? Even if some of it is at her?”

“No.”

“Its okay to not be fair.”

Steve stops. “No, it's not.”

“You don’t have to be fair in your heart, even when you are working to be fair in your head. I’m not suggesting you punch a 90 year old woman. Or a 25 year old woman. Or anyone who’s not in a Natzi uniform or coming through a portal in the sky. But you’re not using your anger very well, Rogers. It may have served you well in combat before, but now you seem stuck.”

“What?”

“You’re stuck in your misery. It's hard to get out - we often can’t do it alone. It pulls you down, it hurts, but it's familiar and can give you some sense of control. To come out is to let go of it and let go of some control.”

“I thought this wasn’t a support group.”

“You see supporters here, Rogers? Lets spar.”

Steve is angry, but knows enough that he should not spar with Natasha. He’s seen her fight before and been impressed, but he has a brute strength that could crush her.

He takes a breath and looks down. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I know you can hurt me. That’s why I’ll tap out. That’s how the fight will end. I don’t have a weapon to even the playing field, but you also don’t have your shield. If I say ‘stop,’ then you stop. I’m not looking to get pummeled for fun. I will let you know.”

Steve softens. She’s winding him down and its working. But he still looks to her for more reassurement. She nods.

“Okay,” he says.

Natasha comes for him, jumping up, elbow aimed at the nape of his neck. He dodges just in time. _Oh, fuck._

He’s unsure of how hard he can hit, how much he has to hold back. He’s trying to stay in control of his strength, but he is very much not in control. He finally is able to do more that evade her attacks and almost lands a stomach punch. Of course she dodges the attack.

Bucky sneaks in, incredibly quietly, but he still distracts Steve enough that Nat is able to sneak up behind him and get a thigh across his shoulder and arms around his neck. He slams them both to the ground on their backs and she taps out before it goes any further.

Steve is stunned. This is not like the sparring he’s seen her do with other patrons. “What was that… where did you…”

“Let’s go again. Boss, correct him as we go.”

Again, Nat comes for him, but he quickly finds a rhythm and is able to do more than just defend. Still, she doesn’t need to block most of the punches, but is able to completely move out of the way well in advance. 

Bucky’s voice seems to come from everywhere, “You’re telegraphing, Rogers. She’s two-steps ahead of you every time. Don’t just react to her. Hit her.”

“You want your best trainer to have broken ribs?” Steve is breathing heavy, disoriented again. 

“She’s got some Stark tech on that should defuse anything you land.”

Nat repeats from earlier, although a bit breathy, “And as long as you listen, I know how to tap out. I know you are stronger than me. I am not afraid to admit that.”

_Yea, yea. I get it. _

It ends with Steve pinning Nat, her back again to the ground, her legs around his waist and their hands pushing against each other’s shoulders. She taps out. 

They shake. “Better. Much better,” Nat says. 

“Thanks. Same time tomorrow?”

“Not for me.” She looks at Bucky, “Boss?”

Bucky looks at Steve and says, “I’m game. 5:45. Here.”

Steve nods as he swallows hard and looks for his water.

\---

Bucky is already waiting for him on the fourth floor when Steve arrives the next day. He greets Steve with a warm smile and a simple question. “Are you ready to work?”

“You betcha.” Steve replies, beaming. At 5:45 in the morning. 

Bucky visibly chooses to ignore whatever that was from Steve.

“Nat told me she had you start on the bags yesterday. Show me.”

Steve jogs over to the bag, already warmed up from his run. He bounces on his feet and begins assaulting the reinforced bag. Bucky watches him for at least two minutes without speaking. Then a simple “good” escapes his lips.

“Nat was just being a hard ass. Your form is tight and you’re quick.”

The praise sweeps over Steve. It settles him but perks his interest at the same time. He’s a little shocked there are no notes from Bucky, but this is just the beginning of the workout.

He keeps punching. Bucky asks how long he typically spends at the bag.

“I used to spend hours, but now it's more like 20-30 minutes most days.”

Bucky nods. He’s silent and lets Steve continue as his eyes sweep over him watching to see if Steve gets sloppy. Of course he doesn’t. Even if he wasn’t extra attentive from Bucky being there, he is Captain America.

“Stop,” Bucky says after a solid 20 minutes. “Water.”

Steve takes a swig from his still mostly full canteen.

Bucky motions for Steve to follow him. “Watch. Then do.”

Bucky has set up an obstacle course across the floor. Floor-standing punching bags sporadically placed, the requisite hanging rope, a net, and a salmon ladder.

Bucky zig-zags his way around the punching bags and is halfway up the rope before Steve realizes that he was watching Bucky but not paying attention to what he was doing. Thank goodness for his serum enhanced memory. It tells him that between the two obstacles Bucky also did 20 burpees and 10 lines of side-step toe touches.

Bucky moves with stealth and silkiness. Steve can hear Bucky’s breath but his feet seem to glide across the floor without a sound.

After Bucky is done the salmon ladder he jumps back to the floor and bucks his head at Steve. “You.”

Steve shoots off around the barriers.

Steve is determined, although not quite as smooth as Bucky. Bucky watches with a slight cock to his head and curve to his lips.

As Steve’s feet fall to the floor after the salmon ladder, Bucky’s simply says “again.” He has Steve repeat the course five more times. Steve’s breathing hard, but his mind is blank in a way it hasn’t been for a long time. He’s even loosened up enough to not be self-conscious about Bucky watching. He moves fast and hard through the course.

“Wipe up after yourself, move the towers to the side and meet me at the bags.”

Steve wipes his sweat off of the mats, off his brow and takes another sip of water. He hears Bucky breathing hard, grunting along with the thumps as he hits the hanging punching bag. 

The metal framing on Bucky’s left arm reaches all the way down, hinging at the wrist and wrapping up over the tips of each of his fingers. But it doesn’t seem to impact his form or the force in which he punches the bag. Bucky swallows hard as Steve approaches. “Do you want to spar?” he asks Steve.

_Yes. Please. Push me around._

Steve nods. “Do I need to adjust for the brace?” he asks.

“It’s stronger than my other arm is - by a lot. I’ve beat it up pretty badly and it still works like new. But you are Captain America, so you break it, you buy it. It’s one of Starks prototypes so you know it’s priceless.”

Steve chuckles. “Of course. Although it’s less about the price tag and more about the flak I’d get from Tony. Do you know what it’s made out of?”

Every time I’ve asked Tony he talks about some rare kind of metal and I can never get a straight answer from him. He always goes off about his father and a meteor and… you actually... and I can’t follow so I’ve stopped asking.”

“Vibranium?” Steve is stunned. He’s amazed at Tony’s generosity in sharing this with Bucky. There is so little of it outside Wakanda. He’ll have to check with Tony to see if Wakanda was compensated or if it was stolen. If it predates Tony, he probably has not given it any thought. 

Steve wonders if this was a project that Tony had in mind already or if it is something that he did for Bucky. Either way, Steve is grateful.

“It’s the same metal that makes my shield. It will be fine.”

Bucky holds Steve’s eyes for a moment before smiling and moving towards the center of the room.

“After yesterday I suspect you’re going to kick my ass.” Bucky says. “But it needs the work out. Let’s get started.”

They stand about 10 feet apart on the balls of their feet, hands up and ready. Bucky nods and Steve lunges at him.

Steve’s holding back, but so is Bucky. Just as Steve thinks _‘Is that all you’ve got Barnes?’ _Bucky speaks, saying “You’re not going to break me, Rogers,” causing Steve to rush at Bucky’s legs.

Bucky jumps out of the way of Steve who adjusts and rolls into a ball to counteract the force in which he lunged towards Bucky. Steve jumps up, searching for him. Bucky is standing, not advancing on Steve, arms slack, breathing deep and steady. 

“Let’s save some for next time. I think that’s enough for today.” Bucky says.

It feels like a gut punch. _Why? Why do we have to stop? _

Instead, Steve replies “Okay. Thank you. This was great.”

“I’m not available tomorrow, but check with Nat if you want another one-on-one session.”

Steve hears him and nods, but now that Bucky has cut things off, the space vibrates around him. He thinks he’ll double the length of his run on the way home.


	2. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky freaks out about Steve.

_Client. _

_Client. _

_Client. _

_Captain-fucking-America. _

_Client._

_ **Steve.** _

Bucky couldn’t refuse Tony when he asked Bucky to show Captain America his gym. But he wasn’t expecting the superhero to stick around. And he sure wasn’t expecting Steve, with his all of his sarcasm, goof-ball nature, and rage, wrapped in an intensely earnest shell.

When he was a kid, Bucky thought Captain America’s propaganda was flat and uninteresting, certainly not an inspiration or reason to enlist. 

When Captain America was pulled from the ice, Bucky got to see the legend spread his saccharine sweet patriotism and work ethic all over 2012 malevolence. It won people over - they loved it. He was the anti-dote to society’s ills.

It won Bucky over, too, but he suspected it was because now he himself had served and could detect the same bravado and projection of one’s best beliefs and intentions - accompanied by the crack of humanity and conflict underneath.

Captain America had earned his modern respect by doing the work - punching aliens and leading a squad of unruly superheros. 

And now he came to Bucky’s gym - every day. And whatever previous passing appreciation for Captain America’s appearance was now a full blown throb in Bucky’s chest for a man he wants to get to know better in more ways than one.

_Shit._


	3. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tough mission for Steve.
> 
> CW: Situational description of civilian torture and death

Steve thinks about using a tower gym the next day, but chides himself for the thought and heads to Bucky’s. He doesn’t look for Nat and he is able to work out on the reinforced equipment enough that he is finally loose and doesn’t have to fake his friendliness to the other patrons.

Nat catches him as he leaves. 

He wonders how much he can ask her about Bucky. _How is he so fucking beautiful? How long has he owned this place? What does he think of Steve? What does he think of Captain America? Does he like shawarma? Is he married? Oh, shit, are **they** married?_

His better judgement comes through. He likes her and genuinely wants to get to know her more. At this moment he just has to remind himself of that.

“How long have you been a trainer here?” he asks.

“Almost four years.”

Then nothing. She doesn’t make it easy.

“How did you get started?”

“I tried to pick Bucky up at a bar, but I was a giant asshole about it. He told me he thought I could use a different kind of workout and gave me a card for this place. It got me off his back and in the building. He hired me after a few months. I am sure it was a ploy to get me “communicating” more, but he was right that I love it and I’m good at it.”

“Of course. Are you together now?”

This time she really does laugh. “No. Are you interested?”

Steve freezes.

_In her?_

_In him?_

“You’re too easy, Rogers. Bucky’s got strict rules against staff dating clients, so don’t worry about it. He’s also been single basically for a millenia and I don’t see him wanting to change that. His heart’s in this place.” 

Fuck.

She meant him.

_Fuck._

He’s silent, looking off behind her.

“Go run, Rogers. If you’re lusting after the boss, you might need to get out of the building for a bit. But come back tomorrow. It hasn’t been a year yet, so no days off. I’ll work with you.”

\---

He pushes Bucky out of his mind.

It works for a few days. He keeps up his workout routine, but he is also prepping for a mission. Breaking up a lab in Guntur, India that some new (at least new to Steve) agencey, Advanced Idea Mechanics, has set up. They’re abducting locals for science experiments, a perfect, albeit incredibly depressing, distraction from Bucky. 

He doesn’t encounter Bucky or Nat in any substantial way before he leaves.

The mission is a “success,” but not without civilian casualties.

AIM members were acting as missionaries, identifying potential converts for a local church. Targeting particularly lonely and vulnerable Andhra Pradesh residents to abduct and use as live test subjects. 

SHIELD suspected that the church was unaware of the AIM presence because the fake missionaries would still bring them some real converts, while those they abducted never made it to the church to begin with.

But it was a theory they were never able to confirm. While in the compound, Steve was releasing the straps of an active test subject when a stray AIM scientist completed the self-destruction protocol. Protection of proprietary information over self-preservation seems to be the AIM priority, just as it was for Hydra. 

A man, Rahi, had been so injured that the blast’s impact was all it took to knock him over for good, but Steve was able to find a faint pulse. He pleaded with Rahi to hold on, pleaded with any deity or external force that could help Rahi as he carried him out of the rubble. Rahi did not make it, but the rest of Steve’s team did, and many other prisoners did as well. 

But this casualty cuts at Steve. 

\---

They debrief with Fury on the quinjet. Steve says all the right things. The AIM operative that had initiated the self-destruct protocol has posed very convincingly as a distraught prisoner and a SHIELD ground agent had missed the signs. As the strike team leader, Steve takes ultimate responsibility. 

Steve disembarks at the top of Stark Tower and heads straight down to his floor, congratulating the team on a job well done considering the circumstances. Even including a few words about the sadness of the loss of life being unavoidable at times, while learning from the experience. He is truly proud his team was able to do as much as they did, saving 61 civilians, and preventing more abductions.

\---

He stands under his shower for a long time. Blankly watching water flick and jump across the tiles.

He dresses, but he’s not sure what he puts on. He goes down to the garage for his bike, planning to let it take him wherever it wants to go.

\---

2:00 A.M. 

Steve’s motorcycle takes him to the gym. There are no lights coming from Bucky’s office.

Steve bounds up to the fourth floor to his reinforced punching bag and slams his bairly wrapped fists for 40 minutes. Then down to the first floor to run. _Why doesn’t he go outside to run? _

He attempts tai chi, which works for about three minutes before he falls to the ground in tears. He sits with his head between his knees and sobs. Gasping, noisy, ugly, with hot tears streaming down and snot filling his nose. 

He feels a hand on his shoulder but doesn’t move. He can’t fight. If they want to hurt him, he doesn’t care. He’ll let them.

His senses (or maybe just his sense) come back to him and he realizes it’s Bucky. He leans his head towards the back of Bucky’s hand, yearning for more contact. Bucky yields and slides down Steve’s back to sit behind and cradle him. 

After a few minutes, Bucky asks, quietly and into Steve’s hair, “bad mission?” 

Steve nods. 

Bucky begins to ever so slightly rock side to side, bringing Steve along with him.  


.  
.  
.  
.  
.  


They sit.  


.  
.  
.  
.  


“I have to unlock the doors,” he whispers. “Come with me. Can you stand?”

“Yes.”

Bucky takes Steve’s arm to help him up and then threads their fingers together, pulling Steve towards the front door. He unlocks it with his left hand, flips the switch for the automatic opener, and leads Steve back to his office. 

A cot is laid out against the wall across from the bookshelves, the guest chair pushed against the shelving. Bucky sits Steve on the cot and crouches in front of him. Steve looks down but past him. Bucky’s hand twitches on Steve’s thigh.

“Steve. Can you sleep?”

Steve hesitates. He grips Bucky’s hand and nods.

The cot is definitely not big enough for both of them. Bucky stands to close the door and moves towards the guest chair. Steve snaps his head up and glares at Bucky, using all the puppy-dog eyes he can muster. It comes out a mix of anger and hurt and yearning, because that’s what it is.

“What do you want me to do, Steve?”

“Here, sit here.” Steve whispers and motions to the top of the cot which is tucked in the corner. Bucky grabs the pillow and blanket from his desk chair, putting the pillow on his lap and draping the blanket around Steve as his head falls onto the pillow.

Bucky strokes Steve’s hair, slowly, wrapping bits up and around his ear. Acting as a sandman and lulling Steve into sleep.


	4. Bucky

_Why? Why did Bucky give Steve a key? _He thought if any vet didn’t have PTSD or depression it would be Captain America… which makes no sense. WWII was less than three years ago for him. A man out of time, nothing is familiar. He knows people, but no family, no childhood friends - they’re all dead or in their 90s. Of course he has issues he isn’t dealing with. A lot of current trama, too, since he just came off a mission that’s affecting him this way.

Maybe Steve is the only one he wanted to do this for. Maybe he was too selfish with the others who asked for overnight access. Maybe _he_ couldn’t have done it before now. 

But he’s here now, with a lap full of blond supersoldier, listening to the front door as patrons trickle in.

He’s just waiting to get a facefull of door as Nat comes in looking for him. Then for her giving him a facefull of judgement and amusement. 

The door hits his feet first and the resistance just makes her peek around the door. Looking down and then up to him with a roguish grin. Nat is not the mystery people say she is.

He glares back. She waves him off and proceeds to silently kiss the air a few times before chuckling, pulling the “Bucky is Out” sign from behind the door and putting it on the front before closing it.

Bucky lets out the breath he was holding and Steve continues to sleep. He’ll never hear the end of it from Nat, but that’s a problem for later. Bucky watches Steve’s chest rise and fall and his own eyes drift closed as his head falls to rest in the corner.

\---

Steve wakes before Bucky. He’s folding the blanket and looking terrified at Bucky as he places it on the cot. Bucky’s peaking out, his eyes still mostly shut, and he thinks of taking mercy on Steve, and himself, by letting him slip out. But delaying interaction isn’t helpful here. _Rip the bandaid off, for both of you._

“Steve.”

Steve freezes.

“I am willing to talk as friends and vets with a little bit of shared life experience. But you need to see someone professionally.”

Steve breaths and relaxes.

“I am.”

“Really?” Bucky asks condescendingly. 

“Yes. It’s mandatory from Fury. I know I have issues.”

“Can they understand enough? You’ve got a bit of a unique situation.”

Steve gives a weak smile, “I thought the same thing at first. And, yes, there is no one out there that’s been frozen for nearly 70 years, but most vets I’ve met are actually dealing with quite similar issues, so I don’t think I can use that excuse. I do think it is finally helping.”

“So last night wasn’t a regular occurrence? Wasn’t something that always lurks around the corner?”

Steve says nothing. 

“You seemed very vulnerable without caring much about self preservation. Are those the things you are talking about with your therapist? Sam, the trainer here, just started up a support group and can give you a one-on-one referral if who you’re talking to isn’t working. It doesn’t work if it's not the right fit.”

Steve just looks at Bucky in return.

“Steve, for fuck’s sake...”

“I’m sorry about last night. It won’t happen again.”

“No,” Bucky says sternly. “That is not the point. It will happen again, for you, whether it's here or someplace else.”

Steve doesn’t refute him.

“Talk to me,” Bucky demands.

“Nat told me about your rule that staff can’t get involved with patrons. It seems like I’m pushing you and that rule further than anyone has before. I’m sorry.”

Bucky feels heat around the collar of his t-shirt. He’s embarrassed and exasperated by this man.

“I’m not asking you to blow me, Steve, I’m saying talk to me like a person who might have an inkling of insight to what you’re dealing with.”

Steve looks shocked. Softening, he whispers “And if I want to blow you…?”

_Fuck, shit, fucking, shit, fuck fuck._

“Stop deflecting. God, you’re an asshole.”

“Hmmmm…”

“Go take a shower. _At home_, not here. Call your therapist and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Steve smiles at him. “_Yes, sir,_” he whispers as he opens the door and a spark races up Bucky’s spine.

Bucky’s heart rate is thrumming and his breath shaky as he grabs his phone and pulls up the outside camera feed. He watches Steve exit the front door and straddle his bike, pushing off the curb and actually checking traffic before he pulls out. Bucky can’t stop biting the inside of his cheek for a full minute after Steve drives out of frame.

_Fuck._


	5. Steve

The familiar feelings of guilt, anger, and grief tug at Steve. But now Bucky tugs at him too.

Bucky took care of him. 

When Steve had first started seeing a therapist, Tony told him about transference - told him “don’t go falling in love with Dr. Bart.” 

The concept makes sense. He’s sure Bucky’s familiar with it, too. And while physical exercise and well-being makes a difference in one’s health, Bucky is certainly not Steve’s doctor.

Steve’s not confused about his feelings for Bucky. He felt Bucky’s pull the moment he saw him. Witty, charming, a bit of a jerk who keeps up with Steve, and someone who very quickly saw Steve under Captain America.

It’s Bucky’s feelings for him Steve’s worried about. What he did for Steve last night was beyond typical trainer care. He’s sure Bucky knows the power of touch and physical comfort, but did Bucky give him more than that? Steve hums thinking of the way Bucky stroked his hair and cradled him between his arms, but he needs to be sure of what it means.

No matter what it meant for Bucky, Steve feels him plastered on his skin.

\---

Once Steve’s back at the tower, momentum and Bucky’s instructions propel him through the rest of the morning. 

Steve showers. He answers the door when Hope checks in on him. 

He sends Pepper a proof of life selfie in response to Tony’s 27 text messages. 

He makes a therapy appointment with Dr. Bartholomew Jones.

His mental energy is spent and he tosses his phone onto the coffee table in exhaustion, leaning back and letting his eyes slide closed. The phone chimes and he mutters under his breath. _Dammit Tony._

It's not Tony.

Bucky: Hi Steve, its Bucky. How are you doing? 

Steve knows what Bucky’s doing by checking in. And it’s the perfect opportunity to apologize for last night and gauge how Bucky’s feeling, despite the potential risk of losing the gym and his new friends. 

His pride and curiosity propel him on. 

Steve: I’m sorry for last night 

Steve: Come get coffee with me and I’ll tell you how I’m doing. Or I’ll come to you.

Bucky: Now?

Steve: Yes.

Bucky: ...  
...  
...  
I don’t think that’s a good idea.

Steve: I want to talk to ‘a person who might have an inkling of insight in to what I’m dealing with.’

Bucky: Fuck you.

_Yes, please. _

Steve: …  
…  
…  
…

What about the place just down Court Street? 3:00 P.M.?

Bucky: That’s in 20 minutes.

Steve: 😉

Bucky: Fine.

Steve: 😁

Bucky: And who taught you to use emojis? 

Steve: Hope Van Dyne

Bucky: 😠

Bucky: The Coffee Shop, 3:00 P.M.

Steve: I’ll see you in 18 minutes.


	6. Bucky

Bucky is early. Nat was off at 2:00 P.M. and he only got in a few curt greetings and knowing looks during her shift. She’s obviously letting him stew. 

He tells Sam that he’s leaving and should be back by 4:00, but can be reached by phone. He offers no additional explanation because he doesn’t have to and because he’s honestly not sure what it would be. 

\---

It only takes him 10 minutes to get out of the gym and down to the diner. He snags one of the few outside tables and orders a cafe au lait. He doesn’t quite admit to himself that he wants to see Steve on his bike again. 

Steve drives past at 2:58. Bucky turns his head as he hears the motorcycle approach. There is no place to park out front. Bucky sinks down into his seat and behind his coffee, eyes tracking Steve as he turns the corner on his bike. Bucky is happy to have a moment to compose himself before Steve gets eyes on him. 

Steve rounds the corner at 3:01 P.M. at the lightest, easiest, quickest jog Bucky has ever seen. He looks like a fucking shampoo commercial. 

Any composure Bucky regained goes out the window. 

Steve plops down in the chair across from him. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“It’s Brooklyn, not Basic. A minute or two is acceptable.”

Steve smiles kindly. They sit looking at each other. 

Their server comes up, asking if they need another minute with the menus. Steve orders an iced cappuccino and - to Bucky’s horror - a piece of apple pie a la mode. 

“Are you seriously going to make me sit across the table from Captain America as he eats apple pie and vanilla ice cream?” Bucky asks.

“I’m willing to share,” Steve replies.

Bucky chuckles shaking his head, no. “You certainly seem to be in a better mood.”

“Nothing like a tragedy to remind you that life’s worth living and to enjoy the little things.”

“Hmmm. You talk to your therapist?” 

“Yeah, got an appointment for tomorrow.”

Bucky debates how much to push. He knows it can backfire, but decides the stubborn ass in front of him likes to be pushed, so he might as well.

“Have you met Sam?” Bucky asks.

Steve shakes his head, no.

“He’s a vet himself, working at the gym while he finishes his psychology degree. His group is the best I’ve ever been to.

“And if groups aren’t your thing, I’m sure he can give you a recommendation. Let me know how tomorrow goes. I’m glad you’re happy Steve, but swings to the other extreme don’t make the pain go away.”

It seems that Bucky has brought Steve down off his high for moment. He looks reflective.

“Aren’t I the one who asked you here?” Steve says obstinately.

“Yes you did,” Bucky responds. 

A knowing silence passes between them. 

Steve breaks it, “Thank you for last night. I’m sorry. I’m sure that’s exactly why you don’t give keys out. Can’t babysit all the military personnel in the five boroughs.”

“It’s fine, Steve. I knew what I was doing. I’m just glad I was there. Glad you weren’t alone.”

Steve breaks eye contact and says, “I also want to apologize for being a smart ass.”

“A-oh! Really?” Bucky is actually shocked to hear what appears to be a humble apology from Steve. 

“I was particularly inappropriate with what I said right before I left. I apologize.”

“Thank you, that’s very good of you to admit.”

Steve preens, but continues. “I’ve missed my shot before, so… I want to know if you might be interested in me… ah, attracted to me, like to see if you would want to go on a date sometime…” 

Bucky lets Steve flounder. Steve doesn’t seem to notice Bucky’s amusement and plows onward.

“Um, I realize this is messy, I’m sorry. You know how to talk to me. You tell me the truth. So, uh, if I’m reading this wrong, or you don’t like men or just don’t like me, tell me and I’ll walk away and even leave the gym if you want.”

Bucky’s heart lurches. _No._

“Steve, like 98% of the U.S. population, I find you very attractive. But, that doesn’t mean we can do anything about it. I’m worried you’re mixed up about me. You don’t even know me.”

“So let me. Show me.”

_Asshole._ Pulling out the smug charm for the kill after he’s gotten Bucky disarmed with his apology and insecurity. Bucky’s cheeks pink and he looks down. 

“I cannot save you, Steve. The pull from you is very strong and I’m worried about us getting lost in each other. I don’t know if I trust you and I don’t know if I trust myself. You make me want to do things... do things to you that I think you’d like. But that’s not enough. You have to really work on yourself, not just tick the boxes.”

“Order me to do it,” Steve says. “Order me to go to group. Order me to talk about this last mission and I’ll do it.”

“No,” Bucky says. “You are not going to be dependent on me for your mental health. You have to take ownership of that shit. If you want to try to be more than professional and more than friends with me, then you have to do the work. We can still talk about shit, but I cannot hold your hand through every therapy session.”

“That’s enough of an order for me,” Steve quips.

Bucky rolls his eyes. This man will push every chance he gets. 

\---

They decide to not train with each other for the time being, but Steve promises to talk to Sam after his next therapy session and see if a change up is in order. 

They also set a date for Saturday.


	7. Natasha

“Roller skating.”

“What?” Bucky asks, confused enough to look up from the ledger in front of him.

“You should take Steve rollerskating,” Natasha clarifies. “They just opened a rink over across from the bridge. It was on the news and everything.”

“How old are you? I can’t decide if you’re 7 or 70.”

“Either way, still younger than Cap.”

“He turned 96 in July,” Bucky bristles. “But in reality he’s like 30. And stop calling him that,” he rambles. “I don’t know why people still call him that... I don’t know why I called him ‘Captain’ when we met, either. I’m sure he has some other rank now at SHIELD. I wonder what it is…”

“Look who’s getting all defensive about his boyfriend. Worried about geriatric fucking, are we Barnes? I think it’s the superhero strength that will probably more of an issue.”

“I’m strong,” Bucky says in a way that reminds Natasha of a petulant toddler. 

“So am I, but I’m not stupid. He’s going to crush you. Don’t get me wrong, I love that the two of you are actually going out on a date - _which should be roller skating_ \- but he’s definitely got some control issues.”

“I know.”

“If you start making his eyes roll in the back of his head, who knows what might come out of him.”

Bucky doesn’t bite.

“Would you leave me alone, Tasha? I’m up to my eyeballs in paperwork.”

The defeat in his tone makes Nat take him seriously. 

“What’s going on, boss? We okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, we’re in the black, it’s just that the landlord wants to sell the building. I’d love to buy it, but I just don’t think I can make it work, even if he gives me credit for all the improvements we’ve done on our own. Nonprofit status might help. We already run a lot like one, getting donors to subsidize memberships for people who can’t afford it. The VA chips in some, too. Making it official might attract more individual donors and grant funding. But it also means I would have to do a lot more groveling and PR. I just don’t know if I have it in me.”

“How about you start with hiring a bookkeeper,” Nat suggests. “You don’t have to do the books yourself.”

“You’re right. Delegation is good. Blah, blah, blah.”

“You know, Steve’s not the only one who has control issues.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Bucky says, sarcasm dripping.

She lets him work and goes back to reviewing her own client sheets. She gives him the space to concentrate on his task... or to stew in his thoughts of Steve if he prefers.

He breaks the silence. Looks like it was thoughts of Steve. 

“I think he wants to get pushed around. It’s a lot of work having literal lives on your hands. He wants to let go, I just don’t think he knows how to yet.”

“Oh, I know,” Nat says. “He wants you to make him beg. And I think you want him to.”

Bucky’s cheeks redden.

“I want to give up some control, too. It’s a lot of pressure making all the decisions all the time. But he is so stubborn, he makes me grab it back, makes me want to show him what to do, make him fix it…”

“My god, you two need to fuck.”

Bucky looks up, unable to contain his smile and the spark in his eyes.

“I’m just not sure how that’s gonna work with him wanting to be dominated. I don’t mind topping, but god it’s been a long time since I’ve had anything up my -”

Nat cuts him off mid lustful, wistful sentence “James Buchanan Barnes, am I going to have to report you to HR?”

He grins.

“And you sure as hell know topping has nothing to do with what goes in what hole. Do you think I’ve ever let anyone - of any gender - top me?”

He chuckles.

“You, with your refusal, probably came the closest.”

“That is true,” Bucky says as his grin somehow gets wider. 

“And you’re gonna have to give up a little control if you want to fuck a supersoilder.”

“Please just don’t put that on my headstone if it kills me.”

“‘He wanted to fuck a supersoilder’ is totally going on your headstone if its what kills you. But seriously, take him roller skating.”

“Natasha, do you want me to take _you_ roller skating?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”


	8. Bucky

Saturday.

Bucky is sitting lost in his computer screen when Natasha knocks on the door announcing herself. 

“Carol’s going to take my shift on Monday,” she says. “That all right?”

“Yeah, fine.” Bucky doesn’t even look up.

She turns to leave. 

“Nat,” Bucky calls, finally lifting his eyes off the computer screen. “Can you ask Steve to stop in when he’s done with his workout?”

“I am not your errand boy, Bucky Barnes.”

“But you do work for me.”

“And is this work related?”

Bucky glares. 

“Thought not. But I’ll let him know.”

\---

Steve knocks on the door with a worn out smile that only comes from a good workout.

“You wanted to see me?”

Bucky smiles in return. Gentle, open.

“Want to talk about our date. Natasha had a terrible idea about roller skating down by the East River, which - _no _\- but it got me thinking that it might be nice to show you the new park down there. I’m not sure how much time you spent down on the waterfront, but it sounds like the change is pretty drastic. I’d understand if you’re not up for it.” Bucky hopes he’s not being too obvious with his underlying question. This is new territory and Bucky really does want to make sure Steve is okay with going down to what used to be the docks.

“Should be fine. Sounds nice. Do you want to meet there?” Steve asks without giving any indication of a reaction.

Bucky hesitates and runs his tongue on the underside of his teeth.

“Will you pick me up?”

Steve’s chest rises. “Sure. Would love it. What time?”

“Five?”

“I’ll be out front at 5:00.”

“Perfect.”

They smile and nod and hold each other’s eyes. 

And then Steve is gone.

Bucky returns to his computer screen, lost in the federal and New York state requirements for starting a nonprofit. He might need to hire a lawyer.


	9. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve remembers. Steve visits Peggy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief F/M in this chapter - see end notes if this is an issue for you.

Steve appreciated that Bucky asked about the docks. When he came out of the ice he’d gone back to Brooklyn Heights. Trekked over to Prospect Park, cringing at the statue of himself. Visited the building he and his mother rented an apartment in, and even looked for some old bars that were long gone.

But he had not gone down to the docks. He was catching up, adjusting, and SHIELD had lots for Steve to do. And then aliens came through a hole in the sky. He hadn’t thought to come back to Brooklyn until he had asked Tony about the gym. 

And now he’s going to the docks. He pulls up the Brooklyn Bridge Park website on the wall projection. Some of it’s still under construction. The roller rink that Natasha had been pushing opened up about two months ago. There’s also a beach, which he supposes was there before, but this wholesome, stylized version seems very strange. All the changes seem positive considering the shipyards aren’t used as such any more, but he had such an emotional connection to the docks and the water. He misses the familiarity. It's not all good or healthy, but it's there, nagging at him.

He doesn’t want to hide this from Bucky, but it also seems as though Bucky already has a idea of the cruising that used to go on and that Steve did sometimes partake. 

His date is today, eight hours away and he’s exhausted. He’s used up all of his excitement to get through the last three days and now he’s crashing. He closes the wall projection and plunges into bed, his eyelids heavy. He’s awash in memories and emotions and male faces. Some of them are rough with him, while he is rough with others. No one in particular sticks out. It’s a blur that bleeds together as he falls to sleep. 

His mind skips and he dreams of Peggy on a stolen night together in London during a rare night off from duty. They seek shelter in the basement of a church during a nighttime bombing campaign. It was late and they shouldn’t of been on the street during Blackout. 

The bombings had been less intense of late, there was even talk of easing the restrictions. While the campaigns were less frequent with less bombs each time, Peggy and Steve aren’t deep enough down to survive a direct hit. Steve chides himself for trying to do something normal, and as a result endangering Peggy. She strokes his cheek and reminds him that he did not force her to come out. She reminds him that even he cannot be on guard every moment of every day.

They fuck on the floor. Steve propped up on their jackets, Peggy riding him. It’s impulsive and silly and neither of them have thought to bring this type of protection for what was intended to be a ten-minute walk. Staring at death and having no control makes one do inane things - even with Peggy tracking her cycle it’s a risk that neither one of them fully fathom. Steve loves her and they only have now and they blow through the concern of unprotected sex that they may not live through. She clutches at him shaking and digging her nails into his shoulder as she slides her pussy up and down on his cock. She leans down and whispers his name once, just below his ear and then the faintest “oh” escaping her lips as she comes. 

.  
.  
.

Steve wakes. Surprisingly peacefully considering how restless he was when he fell asleep. The memory was nice despite its circumstances, but he’s not hard or reaching for Peggy. He knows it’s not who either of them are anymore. While he still has a small ache in his chest for her, what could’ve been no longer matters. He supposes therapy really is working. 

\---

He goes to see Peggy most Sundays, but decides to visit her today instead. It feels necessary.

\---

Peggy is having a good day. He tells her about the mission and how hard he took it, but that he’s talking to his therapist about it. She is shocked and elated that “one Steven Grant Rodgers is actually taking some care for himself.” 

He skips the part where he emotionally collapsed into Bucky. 

They talk about how the “kids these days” are so often considerate and careful about how their actions and words impact others. Peggy beams about her grandkids. “Young people are so much more open, they dress how they want to dress, say what they want to say...”

“They kiss who you want to kiss,” Steve says, looking away and out the window from Peggy. 

“Is there something you are trying to say to me, Steve?”

“Well, you know I didn’t get much attention from women before you, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t have any luck…”

“Steven, are you coming out to me?”

_Sharp as ever. _

“What if I am?”

“Oh, Steve, there was this young man, Jeffrey, who I dated... the two of you would have made quite the picture.”

“Peggy!” Steve balks, faining a bit of extra shock. 

“My imagination’s all I have sometimes. Let this dirty old lady be.”

Steve smiles. 

“I actually have a date tonight,” Steve says.

“Wonderful. Oh honey, I’m so happy for you. Are you nervous? Is that why you’re here early?”

“A little. He seems to get me. Sees through my bullshit. There’s also a woman who does too, but -”

“Steven! Two sutors!?”

“No, no. He’s it. She’s just a friend. But it’s nice to have a friend. ”

“Yes, Tony can be wonderful, but bearing your heart to him isn’t likely going to get you anywhere. Even now that he has Pepper.”

“But this man your seeing, please gush about this new prospect. Where is he taking you?”

“The park and dinner.”

“Very sweet. Is sweet what you need?”

“Sweet is a good place to officially start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost added the F/M tag to the entire fic because of this chapter, but I don’t think it's completely warranted. Steve remembers having sex with Peggy. It is literally one paragraph, but it is a bit graphic. I wasn’t planning on going there, but that’s what happened. I apologize if that’s not your jam. 
> 
> Graphic Bucky/Steve is coming in chapter 11 ;)


	10. Steve

When Steve pulls up at 4:54 P.M. Bucky is already outside, leaning against the wall looking relaxed. Steve’s body flushes with warmth as Bucky smiles at him. Steve swallows hard. 

Bucky is in jeans, a dark gray shirt and black leather jacket. And his hair... his hair is in a french braid. It disarms Steve so much he forgets to say “hello.” Bucky’s hair is barely long enough to stay together, which doesn’t bother Steve because it is _working_ on him. Steve goes into risk assessment mode. He brought a helmet for Bucky, but they aren’t going far and he shouldn’t break 30 miles an hour. Assuming no getaways are necessary, he should be able to keep Bucky safe without a helmet. God, he wants to keep seeing Bucky in that braid.

Bucky doesn’t move, just continues to lean against the wall and stare at Steve.

How does Steve feel so connected to this man already? 

Too much time has passed. Instead of saying anything, Steve motions to the back of the bike. One side of Bucky’s mouth ticks up as he walks over. Bucky adjusts and holds on to the handles at his side before wrapping both arms around Steve. 

“Is this all right?” he whispers just under Steve’s ear. 

Steve nods in return.

“Turn right at the corner, stay straight for four blocks and then a right onto Colombia. You’ll recognize it when we get close.”

The ride takes less than 10 minutes.

Bucky continues to hold on even after they park. His chin perched on Steve’s shoulder, a smile Steve can feel against his own cheek and ear. “Turn around,” he tells Steve as he loosens his hold. 

Steve turns awkwardly, maneuvering his leg between an unmoving Bucky and the motorcycle’s handlebars while Bucky keeps his legs planted on the ground.

“Look at me. Why are you nervous?”

“It’s just been a long time. Haven’t felt this way in a long time.” 

Bucky smiles with darkened eyes and leans in to kiss Steve. His mouth is closed with the tiniest bit of tongue sneaking through to tease Steve’s lower lip. Steve stiffens in surprise, but then melts into it, a shiver running down his spine as he feels Bucky’s tongue. 

Bucky pulls away. “Better?”

Steve nods as he scrambles up to follow Bucky as he walks towards the water.

Steve had forgotten where they are. It didn’t feel anything like the waterfront from the 30s and 40s, but as they get closer that changes. Despite the people, lack of ships, and the big colorful bright directional signs, there is something about the water seems the same. 

They walk past the infamous skating rink. Stopping to admire a few skaters and Steve imagines joining them. 

Steve looks at Bucky, “I’d give it a go if you wanted to.”

Bucky scoffs, “come back with Natasha - you can take my place and get me off the hook with her.”

They move along to the park on the beach and pass the sports fields. They sit for a long time at the art installations. Steve shares that he spent a lot of time at the Met and the Museum of Contemporary Art. While there certainly was lot of general history for Steve to catch up on, the evolution of art provided Steve with a narrative that helped him cope with the atrocities humans were putting each other through while he was in the ice. The joy of seeing artists playing off of one another made sense in a way that reviewing basic historic events did not.

“You drew a lot, at least according to the history books,” Bucky says. “Have you since you’ve been back?”

“Yes. I think it was the only way I got through the initial few weeks. Drawing the skyline and all this new technology. It broke down how things worked, how things had changed. But I haven’t picked it back up since the Chitari.”

“You should.”

“I know. I should.”

Steve stares off towards the water. Scolding himself because Bucky is right, but also feeling defensive and not wanting to say more. He tries to shake off the feeling so that he can enjoy their time together.

Before he can move on to something else, Bucky decides to double down on his attack on Steve’s stubbornness. 

“Did you ever come here before the war?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

More silence that pushes at Steve, despite Bucky not saying a word. Steve sighs in submission.

“I usually went further south, though. Higher turnover of ships and people. I was also less likely to see someone I knew. I had friends who lived in the neighborhood, quietly (or not so quietly) queer, and there were bars, too, but I was never completely okay with my own desires. And I did like girls. There was a small part of me that thought if I lived long enough and could get a good enough job after the war that a woman would have me and that I could be happy that way.”

“And that’s almost what happened,” Bucky replies softly.

“But it didn’t. And I’ll never know if it would have been enough.”

“You should have had the chance to find out. I’m sorry you didn’t have the chance.”

“I’m happy to be here, Bucky. Happy to have met you. I can’t pretend being a bit more honest with myself about my attractions isn’t a nice side effect about catapulting forward 70 years.”

Bucky smiles and Steve feels approval wash over him before Bucky abruptly changes things up again.

“Lets go to dinner.”

\---

Steve’s hunger has caught up to him. They order seven appetizers to share which means Steve can keep his entrée order to one. Even though Steve doesn’t feel the alcohol, he orders a beer along with them, a dark stout that should warm his belly. It contrasts with Bucky's pilsner and light fare for dinner. Self-consciousness flares about the disparity in their intake, but Bucky is able to sooth him easily, talking and sharing about his life, taking the focus off of Steve.

The beer seems to loosen the protective grasp Bucky has on his past. Steve hasn’t wanted to ask about his arm or why he joined the military or poke any potentially sensitive topic. He just asks Bucky to tell him about himself. 

“You said I didn’t know you. So tell me something.”

“I like to read. I sneak on top of the building some nights. Although I don’t read as much of it as I used to. I’ve always loved science fiction and now that we really have aliens it’s hard to get as into it. Now I try to get Stark to tell me about what he’s doing and that’s how I get my fix. ‘Science-almost-reality,’ I guess.”

“So not reading anything now?”

“No, now it's just nonprofit management 101, grant writing, incorporation law...”

“Uh, what?”

“I want to buy the building. The landlord is looking to sell. I don’t have the money, but could maybe do a capital campaign with the right tax incentives and structure.”

“Bucky that’s wonderful… although a lot of work on top of what you are already doing.”

“It is. But I’m not the best at delegating.”

“I disagree.”

Bucky scoffs. 

“You seem to delegate to Nat and Sam just fine. And you do a great job with clients. You set them up, you give them the information they need, you support them, and you get the fuck out of the way.”

Bucky stares at Steve, blankly, for a moment, before finally responding, “That may be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

\---

Bucky tells Steve how he enlisted when he was still in high school, right after 9/11. How he swung from being an eternal cynic to overly patriotic because of the attack. Bucky bought into the fact that he could do something and change things. 

Steve observes that the cynical Bucky seems to be back. 

Bucky’s had made it through two tours of duty in Iraq and was on his third, this time in Afghanistan, when his convoy hit an IED. The shrapnel tore up his left arm, most significantly hitting his median and ulnar nerves. They didn’t amputate at the time of the injury. But several months later, Bucky had experienced multiple infections, and without any signs of improvement Bucky was frustrated as fuck and looking into prosthetics. He found that the cost, quality issues, and side effects were major and Bucky was at a loss for what to do.

Then Tony Stark reached out the VA about a “clinical trial” in lieu of prosthetics. Patients at the VA called it “cyborg tech” that would probably take over their brains. 

Bucky signed up, passed the in-person grill session with Tony himself and underwent five surgeries to get the right connections in his brain and arm. 

Bucky still hasn’t met another member of a clinical trial. 

\---

Despite all of the heavy conversation, Steve still feels on a high. He has shared more with Bucky today than he has with his therapist in six months. The searing intensity of wanting to be good for Bucky is in sharp contrast with the lack of judgement he feels from him around his past.

“How am I doing, Buck?”

“In the wooing department? I’m in the bag, Steve. Have been for a long time. But I appreciate your honesty today. I somehow feel relaxed around you, while wanting to jump you at the same time. You’re doing great”

Steve ignores the heat in his cheeks and pushes on. 

“And what about the rest?”

Bucky sighs. 

“I see someone who is strong willed, stubborn, observant, intelligent, loyal not to the United States, but to the people in it. Someone who still doesn’t quite think he’s worth it, dealing with depression, and probably some PTS, too. But that you are worth it. And just because you’re willing to sacrifice, doesn’t mean it’s necessary. Being the one who is willing to lay down his life is fine - it’s honorable. But you don’t need to _look _for ways to do it. You still have to work on that self-preservation.”

“And I think you are,” Bucky adds.

“I need my head bashed him sometimes - metaphorically,” Steve chuckles.

“Is that why I’m here?”

“No. But it helps.” Steve’s hand slips across the table, palm up and asking for Bucky’s. Bucky gives it to him and Steve runs his thumb across the back of Bucky’s hand. Steve can see Bucky shiver and his adam's apple bobs as he swallows. Bucky’s looking down at their hands and not at Steve. 

Steve keeps talking anyway.

“I don’t know the details of what you’ve been through. And they may or may not matter. They don’t define you either. But I know you’ve seen the shit and you’ve come through it. And even though I didn’t know you before, I am immensely proud of you. I see what you do every day, your dedication, and the way you let people breathe. You are helping people to not get stuck and actually move past what they need to leave behind, while dealing with the stuff that remains.”

Steve ducks his head down to catch Bucky’s gaze.

“It is incredibly sexy. Probably the biggest reason I’m attracted to you.”

Bucky makes a face that looks like a challenge, hiding his appreciation with cockiness, before letting it soften.

“Thank you, Steve.”

\---

Bucky orders lemon sorbet for dessert, but only takes a bite before letting Steve finish it, along with the chocolate cake.

A bite is all he needs as a palate cleanser before the desert he has planned for later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay of this chapter and the next... real world has thrown a wrench into things a bit. Updates will be slower, but at least I've left you with some smut in chapter 11! ;)


	11. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Lets get it on...'

The ride back to the building is relatively short, but Bucky still spends the entire time willing down a hard on, a task made even more difficult as Steve’s scent is blown back in his face and they are pushed together bracing for stops and changes in speed. Somehow he manages, but he feels like putty when Steve parks in the alley behind Bucky’s building.

Bucky takes Steve’s up the fire escape to the fifth floor to avoid any late night patrons and trainers at the gym. 

As they step into the apartment there is a very neat wall of filing boxes, cleaning supplies, and spare exercise equipment. The space is large and wide open, much like the floors below it, except for a wall with two doors that lead to the kitchen and bathroom. Bucky’s bed and sparse furniture are across an invisible, but clear delineated line separating Bucky’s living space from the storage. 

“This is a lot,” Steve says.

Bucky replies without embarrassment, a simple statement of fact. “You can tell why I sometimes crash in the office. It's a bit of a low priority up here.”

He hangs their jackets on a coat rack by the door.

“Something to drink?” he asks Steve. 

“Sure.”

“Water, beer, coffee?”

“Beer would be great - whatever you have.”

Bucky nods and heads into the kitchen.

Steve stands at the window looking down at the people and cars that are still active on the street. Bucky returns and sits at the small round dining table next to where Steve is standing. 

Steve turns, looking at Bucky who is leaning back into his chair, hand around his water glass, legs crossed in a loose but powerful position. He nods at Steve, motioning for him to sit in the other chair at the table. 

They sat across from each other at the restaurant for nearly two hours, but here their chairs are angled towards each other, more intimate with silence filling the space. 

“Tell me what you like, Steven,” Bucky says, barely more than a growl.

“Anything,” he replies, a little too quickly.

Bucky “hmmms” and raises his eyebrows. “Now come on Steve. You got to give me some place to start.”

“It’s just been a long time. You can do anything to me.”

“Let’s start slow. What do you want to do tonight?

Steve doesn’t answer.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

With glassy eyes Steve whispers around the lump in his throat, “Yes.”

“Speak up,” Bucky commands.

“Yes, I want to fuck you. Please.”

“Good. Take off your shoes and socks. Put them by the door.”

Steve rises slowly, following the directions. He turns back to Bucky as he says “Take off your clothes.”

Steve hesitates but pulls off his baby blue soft t-shirt by the collar.

“Fold it.”

He does before starting to work at his pants. Bucky stares as Steve pulls down his zipper. Steve moves to take off his briefs, but before he can, Bucky stops him. “Leave them.”

Steve moves to place his pants and shirt on top of his shoes, turning away from Bucky.

Bucky runs his tongue over his bottom lip immediately followed by a drag of his teeth. He has to clench his throat in order to prevent a squeal from escaping his lips.

This man’s ass is tight and a little plump, making Bucky, for just a moment, rethink his plans for the evening. 

Bucky stands and walks over, catching Steve as he stands back up. He places his lips on Steve’s neck where it meets his shoulders. He kisses softly making Steve’s body lean into his as his kisses work their way around the nape of his neck. Bucky nibbles his way up behind Steve’s ear making Steve’s legs buckle. Bucky takes most of Steve’s weight without an issue, their bodies curving together as Bucky supports him and a moan rises out of Steve. 

Bucky cups Steve’s bulge in his briefs, then takes a finger and traces his cock through the fabric, making Steve shudder. 

“Bed,” Bucky says as he moves them both in that direction.

Steve is pliable and hums in agreement taking just enough control of his body back to get him over to the bed without making Bucky carry him there. Bucky nudges him and he falls onto the bed with a crumpled sound as his shoulder hits the bed and he rolls onto his back. Bucky leans over him and grabs his chin to make Steve look at him, pulling him out of his haze.

“Steven, since you apparently are not going to help with the decision making, I need to at least know that you can use the traffic light system. You know it?”

Steve nods.

“Speak,” Bucky growls. 

“Yes, sir,” Steve says. “Red means stop.”

“Thank god. Any hard “no”s I should know about?”

“No extra bodily fluids, please, sir.”

“Good. We’re starting at level one tonight anyway, but that’s good to know.”

“Anything else?”

“I don’t need condoms, if you don’t. I can’t catch or transmit anything because of the serum.”

“Ah, the old ‘I’m clean, I promise’ line. I swear, if you were anyone else, Steve...”

Steve looks confused and dejected for a moment, piercing at Bucky’s bravado. Bucky slides his hand up Steve’s cheek, caressing it, before returning it to his chin, looking him in the eye earnestly. “I believe you, Steve. Is there anything else I need to know before we start?”

Steve shakes his head, no.

Bucky is back to business, glaring at Steve for his lack of verbalization.

“No, sir.”

Bucky lets go of his chin and smiles, continuing to tower above him, fully clothed. He is unable to resist leaning down to place a chaste kiss on Steve’s lips. He works a trail of painfully soft kisses from Steve’s lips down his neck, Steve’s body arching, reaching for more contact. He ends with his teeth clenched around Steve’s nipple, making Steve gasp and somehow squirm into and away from Bucky at the same time.

Bucky continues to nibble and suck on Steve’s nipple while he creeps a hand down Steve’s body reaching into his briefs past his swollen cock, past his balls, to run a rough finger around the rim of Steve’s hole.

“Bucky. Please.”

Bucky grins into Steve’s chest before he pulls away, pulls down Steve’s briefs and takes a moment to appreciate what is underneath. Steve’s dick is heavy against his belly, swollen and glistening from where Steve’s briefs rubbed his pre-come around the head of his cock. Bucky pulls his underwear off the rest of the way and commands Steve to flip over onto his hands and knees. Steve’s scrambles, flipping over quickly. 

Bucky sinks his teeth into Steve’s cheek, extracting a less than dignified yelp from Steve. He pushes Steve’s cheeks apart nipping at his hole before circling it with his tongue.

Steve’s knees slip farther apart as he pushes back towards Bucky. Bucky laps and nips and plunges his tongue into Steve.

Steve is trembling. He’s on his forearms pressing his forehead into the bed, arching his back. Bucky is relentless, slipping a dry finger in with his tongue. It makes Steve shout and fall further into the bed. Come leaps from his dick into Bucky sheets.

Bucky’s heart flutters. His disappointment at Steve’s early release is quickly replaced by the challenge to see how much a super soldier’s body can take.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Bucky, I’m sorry,” Steve pants, his face still pressed into the sheets. Bucky nudges Steve to get him to flip over. 

“Then show me,” Bucky says as he guides Steve’s eyes to his still clothed bulge. 

Steve moves slow, first seeming to shake off the post orgasm haze, but then Bucky catches the “Steve’s a little shit” look in his eyes as Steve technically obeys, but is again pushing at the boundaries to see what Bucky will do. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed as he slowly undoes Bucky’s jeans, pushing them down and leaning in to kiss where the top of Bucky’s boxer briefs meet his skin, just below his navel. 

“I’m sorry, Buck. Show me how to fix it.”

Bucky’s closes his eyes, head tilting and breathing deep as Steve slips a tongue under the fabric. 

“You can fix it by wrapping that pretty mouth around my dick.”

“Yes, sir.”

Steve instantly pushes Bucky’s underwear down and swallows his dick is one world engulfing movement. Bucky inhales sharply as he feels Steve’s throat tremble around the head. 

“Slow,” he says to Steve, threading his fingers through Steve’s hair and guiding his head with a small yank when he goes too quickly. 

Bucky’s body hums with the slow, throbbing pace, sending him to a level of contentment that pulses, but does not demand release. 

“Give me your hand,” he says to Steve.

Bucky brings Steve’s hand to his lips, sloppily sucking the first two fingers into his mouth, coating them as best as he can. Bucky guides Steve’s hand around his own ass, parts his cheeks and uses his own pointer finger to brush Steve against his hole. 

Steve takes the hint and, while continuing to bob on Bucky’s cock, works one finger and then the other into Bucky. Bucky shudders as Steve reaches inside.

“Good. So good, Stevie.”

The slow pace is punishing, Bucky feels it to his core. The world beyond the two of them is static. He could stay like this for a long time, make even a supersoilder’s jaw sore with it, but he pulls Steve off, leaning down to whisper “I’ll paint your face some other time.”

Steve waits, still sitting on his knees where he had slipped off the edge of the bed. 

“Up, as you were.”

Steve rises from the floor, sitting back on the edge of the bed and waits. Bucky goes to the bedside table and pulls out a bottle of lube and hand towel, tossing the towel on the bed. Steve watches as he pours a generous amount of lube on his fingers and reaches around his back to finish opening himself up. 

Bucky’s eyes close for just a moment as he plunges two fingers and then a quick third into his hole. Steve watches him with his mouth hanging open, gasping as Bucky squirms on top of his own fingers.

Steve reaches out his hand to touch Bucky’s chest. Bucky freezes and glares at Steve’s outstretched hand.

“May I?”

Bucky doesn’t move.

“Please?”

Bucky nods, granting Steve permission. 

Steve runs two fingers down the center of his chest tracing the lines and across his abs. He glides his hand around Bucky’s side and stops underneath Bucky’s forearm, feeling him move back and forth as Bucky finishes prepping.

Bucky steps towards Steve allowing his hand to drift further down Bucky’s ass, joining his fingers at Bucky’s hole.

Bucky hisses as he removes his fingers and Steve holds him open. He adds lube to his hand and runs it up and down Steve’s hard cock, before wiping it on the nearby towel.

He slides onto Steve, treasuring the slow descent. A finger or two during a quick alone session doesn’t even begin to touch how good it feels to be filled with Steve. Bucky shutters once he’s completely seated. Steve’s arms have worked their way around Bucky’s torso, holding him incredibly tight, trembling, with his head buried in Bucky’s neck. They sit for a moment, neither of them moving, Bucky giving no orders.

Bucky picks up Steve’s chin and kisses him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this full -- fuck it feels good. And you’re so beautiful, Stevie. Be good for me now. Lean back on your elbows and don’t move.”

Bucky uses Steve like a scratching post. He rises up slowly, hissing at the slight burn that lingers there. He arches his back as he writhes on top of Steve, continuously rising and falling, pushing himself back and forth in fucking love with Steve’s cock. Bucky circles his own nipples and tugs at his pecs. He works his hands into his own hair and pulls at his scalp, keeping what's left of his braid intact. He leans forward and is finally able to feel Steve brush against his prostate just right. He breaths into Steve’s chest, biting at Steve’s skin as he continues to thrust with his own hard cock pressing between their bellies.

He hears Steve’s heart pounding in his chest. Steve is keeping still for Bucky, but his desperation to move is obvious.

Bucky couldn’t see Steve’s face when came in the sheets earlier. He wants to now. He kisses Steve as he continues to move his ass, then whispers, “Come for me. Come inside me.”

Somehow Steve is able to form words, “But, you…”

“Now, Steven.”

Bucky tugs at the nape of Steve’s neck. “I know you’ve been holding off. You don’t have to anymore. Fill me up.”

At that Steve breaks. Bucky feels the moment Steve comes. His hands clench in the sheets, his thighs tense, and his torso drops all the way back on the bed.

“Fuck, Bucky. Fuck.”

Bucky milks him through it, continuing to move even after the tension in Steve’s body eases. He leans down and kisses Steve, checking in. 

“How are you?”

Steve keeps his eyes closed and nods. 

“I need to hear you.”

“Good, I’m good. I’m really fucking good.”

“Glad to hear it - because you’ve got a job to do.”

Steve finally opens his eyes. They’re still glazed as he looks into Bucky. 

“You can come as many times as you want, but I’m not coming off of you until you’ve made me come.”

Steve growls at the prospect. 

“And you’ve got to do the work.”

“Yes, sir,”

Bucky leans down, touching his body everywhere he can to Steve’s chest. He kisses Steve, slowing the movement of his hips and whispers “go.”

Steve lifts their torsos off the bed, deepening the kiss, reaching his hands to spread Bucky wider and thrust deeper into him. 

“Good - ah. Good, Steve.”

Steve rockets them all they way off the bed, lifting Bucky even further upward so that Steve pulls most of the way out of him before pummeling back in. Standing in the middle of the room with Bucky’s legs around him thrusting upward again and again.

“Wall,” Bucky says. 

Steve carries Bucky over to the wall, letting him lean against it to curve his back and hips while Steve works the angle in search of Bucky’s prostate. 

Steve continues to thrust, burying his face in Bucky’s chest and slamming a hand against the wall in order to support himself as he comes for a third time. His hips falter for a moment as he breaths Bucky’s name, but he clearly remembers his mission and keeps moving inside Bucky after he himself is spent. 

Bucky’s hole is sore in the best way, just as he wanted, just as he missed - although he never could have anticipated this. The rush of warmth Bucky feels when Steve comes gets him very close to joining him, but somehow Bucky holds off. An orgasm is a wonderful and unexplainable experience, but getting fucked in the ass this well is intoxicating in its own right - blissful and heady. 

He is astounded at Steve, not because of Steve’s ability to come three times in an hour, but because his dick has stayed hard basically the entire time. 

“Slower,” he commands. 

Steve peels his head off of Bucky’s chest, eyes wild. He kisses Bucky slow and deep, making Bucky’s chest hum. 

Their mouths fuck together slowly, mirroring their hips, indistinguishable gasps escaping from each of them. 

“Bed, Steve.”

And Steve takes them to the bed. He lays Bucky down slowly, standing upright to look at him.

“Like what you see?” Bucky asks. 

“You’re a bit of an asshole, sir,” Steve says with a knowing smile. 

“Then fuck me like one,” Bucky says as he brings one leg over Steve’s shoulder. Steve leans forward like he’s stretching Bucky’s thigh, making Bucky hiss and his leg fall to the side. Steve catches it in the crook of his elbow, holding it and using it to open Bucky wider and fuck into him further. Bucky cannot help but tilt his head back and moan as he feels Steve’s cock somehow even deeper inside him, filling him up more than he has ever felt. 

Bucky grips the edge of the bed to keep himself steady, allowing Steve to remove his hand from his waist. Steve slows his pace for just a moment, admiring the spot where his body enters Bucky’s. He runs two fingers around Bucky’s hole, collecting some wet and making Bucky shiver. 

With the mixture of lube and Steve’s come, Steve wraps his hand around Bucky’s dick and pumps up and down at a pace not quite matching his thrusts. It gives Bucky a non-stop sensation flowing from each side of his body, compressing him in between. 

Bucky lifts his shoulders up, but keeps his hands firm on the edge of the bed as Steve pounds and strokes him. Steve’s thumb, slightly rough, slides up and down, brushing the underside of Bucky’s cock and sweeping over the head. It’s what sends Bucky over the edge. 

“Steve…” Bucky gasps.

Bucky comes with such force it leaps over Steve’s hand, high onto Bucky’s stomach. Steve’s eyes flick between the mess he’s made of Bucky and Bucky’s contorted face. 

The fluttering and clenching of Bucky’s hole sends lightening through Steve again and he meets Bucky’s forehead with his own as his throat scrapes out Bucky’s name and he fills Bucky’s ass for a third time.

They stay suspended and still, except for sporadic aftershock thrusts from Steve. 

Eventually, Steve falls to the side, pulling a trail of slick and come with him as his dick pulls out of Bucky.

Steve huffs as he falls onto the bed.

“Mission success?” He asks Bucky.

“Yes, Steve, you did well,” Bucky replies. “But there’s still clean up.”

“Uhhh…”

“There’s a towl right next to you, you lazy fuck. The deep cleaning and hospital corners can wait til the morning.”

Steve reaches his hand blindly next to him without moving the rest of his body, pawing the bed until he finds the towel. He uses it on his own hands, dick, and thighs, getting the worst of the stickiness before it dries. 

He turns to Bucky who has pushed himself up onto his elbows and is glaring at Steve. 

Steve blushes. “I’m sorry, sir,” he says to Bucky who is in much worse condition.

“Its okay. It just means you’ll have to lick it up.”

Any energy Steve had been building up immediately leaves him and he falls back onto the bed, mind whiting out from the debauched idea of licking Bucky’s come off of his stomach and his own come from Bucky’s thighs, between his cheeks, and around his hole. 

Steve’s dick twitches. He takes a deep breath. “Yes, sir.”

He raises up, turning to Bucky.

“Cleanliness is very important,” Bucky lectures.

“Fuck you.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows and smirks at him. _You just did._

“Get to work.”

Steve slides off the bed, kneeling between Bucky’s legs. He starts at Bucky’s stomach, lapping slowly, proficient, and working his way down, kissing into Bucky’s pubic hair, and then licking up Bucky’s thighs. Bucky jerks as Steve’s tongue dips into the crevasse where his thigh meets his groin. A hand swipes at the top of Steve’s head accompanied by a breathy “stop” from Bucky, as he holds back a full laugh as best he can. 

Gravity has taken some of the mess down to the small of Bucky’s back where it meets the bed. Instead of flipping Bucky, Steve hoists his knees up over his shoulders, putting Bucky in a ridiculous position where his shoulders and head are pressed into the bed. But the feel of Steve’s tongue at his hole makes it worth it. Bucky’s dick begins to swell and any embarrassment is cast off by the handiwork Steve’s tongue is giving his hole. 

Steve pushes a finger in to open Bucky wider, letting more come trickle out. Bucky feels it seap towards the small of his back and suddenly his dick is at full attention once again for this man. Fuck.

Steve drops Bucky back onto the mattress, but remains on his knees, eyeing Bucky’s renewed interest. 

“May I?” Steve asks.

“Fuck yes.”

Steve swallows him down, his already plump lips stretching to take Bucky’s girth. Bucky thrusts upward, making Steve hum in enjoyment and approval. He thrusts once more before filing Steve’s enjoyment away for later. He told Steve he had to do the work this time. 

Steve is meticulous. Flawlessly moving his fist with his mouth to extend the feeling around Bucky’s cock. He traces the vein that runs up Bucky’s shaft with his tongue, then the underside of the head, before plunging back down again and seemingly trying to suck Bucky’s brain out through his dick. 

Bucky comes without warning and without a word, Steve barely catches Bucky’s sharp exhale as his cock pulses and fills Steve’s mouth. Steve swallows as he pulls off and licks his lips. As much as Bucky wants to see Steve’s face in this moment, Bucky is on another plane. He is one with bed beneath him, blissed and fucked out. He paws and pats clumsily at Steve’s head as a thank you and suddenly Steve is leaning over him, kissing him. Bucky whispers “Stay.”

Steve pulls Bucky up to the head of the bed, flips off the light and sinks into bed next to him for the night.


	12. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some domesticity.

Steve wakes at 5:00 A.M., as he does every morning, but today he is staring at Bucky's ceiling. Bucky is still asleep. _Does he need to be up? Be at the gym? _

Steve listens to the street below them. No unhappy patrons grumbling or knocking on the door. Steve bets that Bucky asked Nat to come in early and open up. 

Steve turns to Bucky who is scrunched down in the bed. His face is away from Steve, but his ass sticks out towards him like an invitation, with one foot dangling over the edge of the bed. There is no trace of yesterday’s braid left in his hair. Steve reaches out to comb his fingers through it, ghosting over it before pulling away, scolding himself, not wanting to wake Bucky. 

He rolls away and out of bed to see if he can scramble up some breakfast. He collects his briefs from the floor, but forgoes anything else.

Bucky’s got eight varieties and flavors of protein powder. The fridge is stocked with almond milk and free-range eggs and it’s obvious that even if Bucky doesn’t spend a lot of nights sleeping here, he does come up to eat. He’s got spinach, zucchini, blueberries, and somehow gorgeous looking tomatoes despite the crisp fall weather. Steve’s not sure he’ll ever be completely used to the ability to get things out of season.

He can’t find bacon anywhere. 

Steve’s got his head in the freezer rummaging around when he hears Bucky pad into the kitchen. He can tell Bucky’s not quite awake as he comes up behind Steve and rubs his face into Steve’s back. 

“No sausage? Or bacon? Or tailor ham?”

“Why are you like this?” Bucky asks, ignoring the question.

“You like me like this.”

Bucky groans into Steve’s back before pulling away and leaving a kiss between Steve shoulder blades. He pulls out coffee grounds from a cabinet.

“There are veggie patties, but they don’t exactly pass for sausage.”

“How? How in the world are you so fit without eating meat?”

“I’m kinda insulted you didn’t notice last night.”

“All I noticed is that you didn’t eat beats, which are incredibly hearty, filling, and delicious.”

“Everyone knows they taste like dirt, why would I want them on my salad?”

Bucky continues, returning to Steve’s earlier question, “I know you’ve discovered protein powder and there are lots of other alternatives, too. Meat takes forever to cook, our bodies don’t really need it any more, and large processors are terrible to the animals. I do occasionally eat fish. I won’t make you stop eating meat, just don’t try to make me start. And I’ll get you some locally sourced bacon for next time.”

_Next time._

Sounds fair. Steve hums a thank you as Bucky turns to start the coffee. Steve makes them spinach-mushroom-cheese omelettes while Bucky supervises, making sure Steve doesn’t turn the fake sausage into rubber. 

Bucky is wrapped up in his blue blanket, it looks like a toga draped across one shoulder. When they finally sit down to eat, he moves the blanket down, wrapping it around his waist and giving Steve a good look at Bucky's brace and arm. Steve hadn’t taken a close look last night, but can see Bucky’s left arm is significantly less toned than the right. When he’s looked at Bucky before, he realizes, that it was the brace that made Bucky look to have equal amounts of bulk on each side of his body, but that the injury, despite Stark’s intervention, still prevents full muscle build up.

Steve also sees where its nodules press into Bucky. They look painful and pucker Bucky’s skin.

“Are they bolted in?” Steve asked wondering if they drill in through the skin and muscle underneath.

“No. There are sensors embedded underneath keeping them in place, almost like magnets, but no screws or pins. There’s hardware internally that runs up and connects with my spinal cord. It lets me feel some pressure, but not really temperature on the arm itself. And I have almost complete range of motion obviously. You can look closer.”

Steve crouches next to Bucky, still hesitant. 

“It's amazing how it seems to all be one piece, metal seemingly melting into fabric. Is it all vibranium?”

Bucky half shrugs in response. 

Damn, Steve wants to go to Wakanda. If this is what Stark can do, Steve cannot imagine what Wakandans have created themselves. Maybe he’ll take Bucky.

Steve is happy Stark’s technology and insatiable appetite for a new challenge has provided Bucky with needed accommodation that works for him. The brace is an amazing piece of tech, but it's all Bucky underneath. The real magic of it is that it allows more Bucky to come through.

He runs his hands along the brace, kissing Bucky’s wrist where the brace and skin meet, looking up at Bucky and leaning to kiss him. When Bucky meets his lips, Steve groans, bucking his hips slightly. 

“My god, your insatiable,” Bucky says.

“You do something to me, Bucky.”

Bucky looks at him, blank but kind. 

“I need you to save it.”

“What?” Steve says, startled and pulling back. 

“Go get a workout in. I need some... time to recharge.”

Steve softens. At least Bucky didn’t say he needed “space.” Steve picked up early that any movie with a love interest who uttered the word “space” meant trouble. 

Steve wants to push and see if he can get a different kind of workout in, but the fatigue in Bucky’s eyes stops him. 

Steve knows Bucky slept well and probably later than he has in months. Steve also knows that exhaustion often has nothing to do with the amount of sleep someone gets. 

“T-shits are in the second drawer, shorts in the third. There’s an extra toothbrush under the sink. You can come back here to shower.”

“Thanks,” Steve says unenthusiastically as he steps away from Bucky. 

Steve picks a blank light gray shirt but is caught off guard by the leggings next to Bucky’s athletic shorts. He hasn’t seen Bucky wear them, but he drifts off imagining Bucky's ass, his thighs, his bulge hugged by the fabric. 

He dresses, even borrowing a pair of Bucky’s socks before he realizes his shoe situation. Bucky is built, but what is the likelihood that they are the same shoe size? He’s not going to be able to work out in ill fitting shoes, even if Bucky somehow wears a bigger size than he does. He contemplates driving back to the tower quickly, but he doesn’t want to chance Jarvis alerting Tony and derailing the morning. 

Bucky comes in as Steve is staring at his feet. Steve looks up as he says, “I don’t have any shoes. I’m not going to exercise in boots.” 

“You don’t need shoes.”

“What?”

“You don’t need shoes, Steve. Maybe stay off the treadmill, but working out barefoot is really good for your balance and agility.”

Steve glares at him.

“Not that you need it. Just don’t drop a weight on your foot. I don’t want to see the freak show that will result in your foot stitching itself back together.”

Steve pushes down his minor revolution at the idea, “Really?”

“If you’re self-conscious about your feet just stay up on the fourth floor. You probably won’t see anybody this early. The obstacle course we did the other day won’t be a problem barefoot.”

“Okay,” Steve says as he stands. 

Bucky comes over to reassure him with a kiss, but Steve feels tension between them. Bucky could just order him to get out, but he doesn’t. He just looks tired. 

“Two hours, Buck.”

“Two hours,” Bucky says.

Steve keeps the socks on as he goes down the single flight of steps. Perhaps not the best idea, but his reflexes save him from wiping out as he turns on the landing halfway down.

He pulls off the socks and heads to the punching bag. He quickly adjusts to his lack of shoes, instead obsessing over every awkward moment with Bucky this morning. His memories slip to Bucky riding on top of him, supplanting the awkwardness with a dull, persistent desire. Steve loosens, falling into rhythm and he has to admit he gets in a good shoeless workout.


	13. Bucky

Bucky falls face first into his bed as he hears his door click. He’s nearly asleep when his phone vibrates on the bedside table.

Nat: Why is Steve using a punching bag on the fourth floor without any shoes on? And why didn’t I see him come in?

Bucky: Why are you asking questions that you already know the answers to?

Nat: Good night? 

Bucky: Yes.

Nat: Did you kick him out?

Bucky: Yes.

Nat: Can I go bother him?

Bucky: No. I need him to wind down. So. Much. Energy.  
Leave us both be. Please. 

Nat: Got it. 

Bucky: I know your dying to ask questions. Make a list for later and let me sleep.

Nat: Good night sleeping beauty, ;-).

Bucky’s asleep before his screen lock dims. 

The sun wakes Bucky over an hour later and he immediately sets to work. He bundles the sheets and puts them in the washing machine, making the bed with a spare set. He washes the leftover dishes and scrubs the splatter marks off of the stove.

He drags himself to the bathroom, pawing the overnight growth on his face before impatiently pulling out his razor and making quick work of the stubble. 

It’s not until he’s he standing under the pounding spray of the shower that he lets thoughts of Steve creep back in. He thinks about the look on Steve’s face as he stood in front of Steve with his own hand in his ass. Heat and pride fill Bucky’s belly. 

He is lost in the memory when he finally hears Steve calling his name. 

“In here,” Bucky calls, sure that Steve would have already been able to hear the shower running. 

Steve stops at the bathroom door.

“You can come in.”

Steve steps inside and Bucky listens as Steve strips off his clothes.

He lifts his head as Steve steps in the shower, the water continuing to beat on his shoulders. Steve leans in, kissing Bucky.

“God, you stink.”

Steve pushes his body into Bucky’s, squirming and rubbing. 

“Don’t try to scent mark me,” Bucky scolds playfully as he pulls away. Steve’s wriggling against Bucky has turned both of their partial erections into full blown arousal.

Steve stills. Bucky leans back in to bite at Steve’s bottom lip.

“Wash up,” he tells Steve. 

Steve lathers his body and lets Bucky scrub shampoo into his scalp, Bucky using his nails, making Steve visibly shiver. 

As he rinses the last of the soap away, Steve pushes Bucky against the cool back wall of the shower making Bucky laugh into the kiss Steve plants on him.

“Easy.”

“No,” Steve growls.

“What do you mean ‘no?’ You’re supposed to be calmer after your workout.”

“I was. But you weren’t supposed to be in here. Wasn’t expecting you to be in here.”

“I wasn’t either,” Bucky says which elicits a scoff from Steve. “Its not a power move.”

“Maybe not, but what you’re doing now sure is. If you need me to go slow, I better get out,” Steve says, frustration spilling over.

“I’m glad you’re getting to know yourself. Know your limits. Limits are helpful elsewhere, too.”

Steve pounds a fist into the wall. “Really, a lecture, Barnes?”

Bucky stills, eyes like ice sweeping up Steve. 

“Yes, Steven, and you are going to shut up and listen.”

Silence. 

“Make me.”

Bucky spins them around.

“On your knees.”

Steve complies, looking up at Bucky with his clear blue eyes, holding Bucky’s gaze. Bucky looks down and in a firm whisper says, “You know how to stop me.”

“I’m not going to stop you.”

“Stop me, if I go too far,” Bucky says seriously, eyes boring into Steve as he lifts Steve’s chin and slots his dick in between Steve’s parted lips. Bucky begins to thrust, slowly at first, swallowing a moan so he can look down at Steve. Bucky has to make sure water isn’t rushing into Steve’s mouth as he moves. He doesn’t want Steve’s headstone to say that he was killed by a friendly dicking in the shower. 

Bucky moves faster. Steve watching, bracing his arms against the wall, and leaving own cock hanging hard and heavy and untouched.

Steve’s mouth is sloppy and wet around Bucky’s dick as he slides back and forth, feeling his cockhead brush the back of Steve’s throat with every thrust. It’s tense and warm and Steve is sitting on his haunches, staying very still as Bucky fucks in and out and in and out. Steve’s eyes are wet, but frantically alive.

Their groans mix together, bouncing off the shower walls. Bucky can only tell which are his after they come back at him and only because Steve’s are muffled, mouth being stuffed with Bucky’s dick. 

His hips pick up speed and he slams his eyes closed, overwhelmed by the slick pressure on his cock. 

_“Steve.”_

Bucky bangs his hand against the wall, heat building from his balls, which tighten as he comes with a low ‘gnng’ sound. Steve swallows it down as Bucky twitches, his face joining his arm against a cool shower wall for just a moment. 

He pulls Steve up, kissing him and running his fist over his cock. It only takes three pulls until Steve’s knees are buckling and he’s shooting off. They pant and kiss and touch. Bucky pulls away looking between Steve’s legs. Steve’s erection has slightly deflated, but still appears very alert.

“Do you have to come four times every time?”

Steve shakes his head ‘no.’

Bucky recognizes Steve’s throat is likely sore and takes it as enough of an answer.

Steve is pliant as Bucky wipes him down, making sure they are both clean. He holds Steve for another moment, kissing his neck and tracing water droplets up towards his ear. 

Bucky guides him out of the shower with minimal effort. Steve’s still not verbalizing, but is coherent enough to work with Bucky. Bucky dries him off and leads him to the freshly made bed. He tucks Steve in, sitting next to him and stroking his hair. Steve’s eyes glide close as he says, “thank you, Bucky.”

Bucky sits there for another moment, watching Steve’s chest rise and fall before dressing, writing a note, and slipping off down to his office.


	14. Steve

Steve felt like he was floating two inches above the ground as Bucky dried him off and guided him to bed. 

He didn’t dream. 

When he wakes, Steve lays without opening his eyes, remembering the slide of Bucky in his throat and Bucky’s hands on him. A shiver runs through him. 

He opens his eyes to find bits of orange in his vision. He shakes his head and removes the sticky piece of paper from his forehead. 

_In my office. [heart] Bucky _

An order? Bucky letting him know where he is? Probably a bit of both, vague and playful. It warms Steve. It’s perfect.

Steve looks down at the a-frame shirt and blue boxer briefs that he vaguely remembers moving his limbs into earlier. He does remember Bucky’s voice praising and calming him as he grew colder, dryer, then warmer and more comfortable as he got out of the shower. 

He rises to put on his clothes from yesterday to find a gray henley and fresh pair of socks paired with his own folded jeans and boots. 

_Wear this._

It’s soft and smells of Bucky and fits a bit too snugly. 

He makes the bed, hospital corners and all, then wanders down the five flights of steps to find Bucky.

Steve catches a moment of exhaustion and distress on Bucky’s face before it fills with a broad grin to greet Steve. His eyes still look tired. Steve wonders if it’s new, or if he’s finally paying closer attention to all of Bucky, and not just feeling his pull and blinded by his beauty.

“Good morning, again,” Bucky says.

“Good morning,” Steve replies as he walks around to the backside of the desk, leaning against the edge. He hovers slightly over Bucky and runs his thumb over the crease in between Bucky’s eyebrows. 

“I’m going to head back to the tower, if that’s all right.” 

Bucky’s smile dims ever so slightly. “All right.”

Steve doesn’t move. “What are you working on?”

“Tax exemption paperwork. The lawyer did most of it. I just have to review everything. It’s dry as hell, but I know I have to put all of the work we do here in a pretty little box so that the government will approve us and people will consider giving us money.”

“You run a tight ship here, Bucky, but the messiness of recovery is a reality people should see. This gym part of that. You don’t sugarcoat the work it takes, which is part of the reason what you do actually helps people.”

“Yeah, but letting people see the mess doesn’t bring in the money - it makes people uncomfortable. They want the perfect, select story. I’m still gonna have to rub elbows and glad hand a bunch of donors to make them feel like their funds are worth whatever degrading hoopes they make us jump through. Build them up for their generosity like it has no benefit to them and no side effects for us.”

“There’s no other way?”

“No. I’ve run the numbers 100 ways. I’d have to quadruple membership and jack up the monthly rate for patrons, which defeats the purpose... and as a nonprofit even more people tell you how to do your job. Sure in a bakery a customer might say you should have sugar free options or more pie and less cookies…”

_Sugar free baked goods? What?_

“...but now I’m opening myself up to every amateur accountant and charitable wannabe who thinks they can do a better job.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say. Bucky stands up reaching his arms around Steve, pulling him close.

“I’m sorry. I promise it’s not as bad as it sounds. I really can’t do it without individual donors, but it’s already old. Most people mean well, but they just have no idea the work that it takes.”

“I think that’s true with most things.”

“You’re right. I just wish people would spend more time trying to avoid creating the issues we are dealing with instead of breathing down my back and telling me and other vets how to do a better job with recovery. People really suck sometimes.”

“I know.” He kisses Bucky. “Can I -”

“If you are going to offer me money, Rogers, I’m gonna smack that big nose off your face.”

“Come on, how about a little seed money?” he somehow says with a straight face.

“Have you been listening to me?” Bucky says, pushing away from Steve. “While it’s an ‘investment’ in our vets, it’s not that kind of investment where you get your money back. I’ve got to get people to give me ‘seed money’ that they won’t actually ever see again.”

“Oh, okay,” Steve chuckles. “That sounds okay, too.” Steve continues to shake. Bucky squeezes him. 

“Stop. Stop that.”

“What? I just wanna give you some money... for your seed.”

“Oh god. Out. Get out,” Bucky says letting go and pointing towards the door. Steve walks towards the door, still grinning. 

“But seriously, Tony and Pepper are big philanthropists. I’m sure they’d be willing to help out.”

“Have you seen my arm? Seen what he has already done for me?”

“He’s got a lot to atone for - this place isn’t just for you. And war-monger guilt doesn’t wash off easy.”

“Out.”


	15. Bucky

Natasha plops down in front of Bucky. “Have you left the office today?”

“Yes. I don’t piss in a jar.”

Natasha glares.

“I also had sessions with Carl and Sandra.”

Natasha nods in approval. 

“Are you here to grill me? I was expecting a typed up list, full of inappropriately specific questions.”

“Oh, I have a list. But only one really matters: did you talk to him about the building?”

“Nat…”

“You know he can help. Do you even believe in this place?”

“Low blow, Nat, come on.”

“Why is this difficult for you? How many places out there would kill for this kind of connection?”

“That’s just the thing, Nat. He should be giving his money to somebody else.”

“And he can. Talk to him about that, too. Honestly, I’d be surprised if he isn’t already giving a ton of money away.”

“He wants me to talk to Tony. I don’t know that I can ask for more from him.”

“Aren’t you in therapy? Why the hell do I have to be the one to point this out? You have done the work. You are doing the work. I will be the first one up your ass if you ever stop doing the work.”

Bucky’s grimace and smart comment are cut off by a knock at the door. 

“Group’s at five, come down if you can,” Sam announced. His smile lingers in an extra moment, looking at Natasha.

“Can’t tonight, Sam,” she says. “But thank you.”

Sam looks at Bucky, who sighs heavily. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Sam nods goodbye to both of them and continues down the hall.

“What was that?” Bucky says as he straightens up, looking at Natasha.

“We’re going out later. You can join us if you want. It’s not a date.”

“Maybe not to you.”

“I don’t know what it is, Bucky. He’s good. I want to get to know him better. And not just as a coworker.”

“But you got Carol to cover your shift tomorrow morning, just in case.”

“No, I have a doctor’s appointment. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Hmmm.”

\---

Bucky does go to group. It retreads old material about how to accept help. Repeating the basics is important, Bucky reminds himself. 

Other vets tell stories about their spouses or kids or parents “saving” them after coming back. How they leaned so hard on them for basic survival and getting through the persistent shock of civilian life. Sam takes the time to redirect each one of them, talking about how they themselves did the work and while friends and family can give you the space and support, at the end of the day, we do the majority of the work ourselves and must give ourselves the credit.

Sam tells the group to be kind to themselves, that it doesn’t always work out and it's certainly not a straight line. Group can go a long way, but it can’t substitute for real-world resources they need to make it stick. The pace of the world is not forgiving. Self-care cannot overcome societal issues, but is an essential piece of working to make the system better for the next group.

Some vets need guidance on how to say “no,” to set intermediate goals and to listen to themselves and others. Everyone is reminded of the importance of recognizing the signs of their own automatic reactions to triggers - not to avoid the triggers indefinitely, but to anticipate them when they can and observe the physical reaction that takes hold.

Bucky is amazed every day at Sam. Bucky knows Sam has his own issues because he shares them. He speaks freely about his partner Riley who he lost in combat and that he still feels responsible for. Sam still cries openly. It is the most amazing example Bucky has ever seen. 

Bucky thinks about taking Natasha up on the offer to go out with them that evening, but decides it may result in Nat quitting or maybe cutting his hair in the middle of the night. He’ll let them have a good time without him. 

\---

Steve keeps coming to the gym as usual, visiting Bucky and stealing kisses.

Bucky has successfully avoided any additional conversations with Steve about buying the building. Despite the reminders from group, Bucky’s reverting back to long dormant (or at least decently managed) behavior. The dread and guilt Bucky feels in anticipation of seeing Steve is comfortingly and painfully familiar. Bucky can’t believe how good it still feels when the tiny thrill washes over him after Steve leaves without discussing the topic forefront in his mind, like he’s gotten away with something. 

Bucky loves the pushing and shit starring Steve does, but it leaves just enough uncertainty to drive him back to these old patterns. Bucky knows better. He knows how he feels when he has a question that he can’t be playful with. He knows he needs to be direct. He knows he’s reading too much into things and that the positive feedback from Steve should be enough. He knows Sam’s right and yet he still can’t seem to stop himself.

\---

Steve comes in to Bucky’s office to say goodbye, freshly showered and fully dressed after his workout. Bucky pushes him against his desk, climbing him so that his sneakered feet are perched up on his desk, straddling Steve’s hips, keeping Steve in place.

They kiss slowly, Bucky’s arms tight around Steve’s shoulders, Steve’s hands curled into Bucky’s back. The position is odd, with the occasional thrust landing awkwardly without finding a spot for friction. 

“I have to go,” Steve said, pulling away, loosening his grasp on Bucky while his lips still reach out for him.

“No,” Bucky replies into Steve’s jaw as his kisses work back to Steve’s lips.

“It’s my training exercise, I have to be there,” Steve explains.

“Are there scenarios where they can’t reach you… where command’s been _compromised?” _

“You know I have to go.”

Bucky slumps down onto Steve, putting all of his weight on him and, for the first time this morning, lining their cocks up in a way that makes them both groan from the contact. They freeze for a moment, just breathing into each other.

“Okay,” Bucky’s rasps after the pause. He puts his feet back on the floor and tries to shake out his arousal.

“Come to the tower tonight,” Steve says. “Have dinner with me. Tony wants to see you, too, I can’t keep him at bay forever. Pepper will come, which should help.”

Bucky looks suspiciously at Steve. He steals a moment for himself, with Steve quiet, watching. 

_Rip the band-aid off, Barnes. Do it for yourself, not just for Steve._

“Is this a setup?” Bucky asks.

“Maybe.”

“I need you to tell me, Steve. It’s gonna make my day a lot harder if don’t know for sure.”

“It doesn’t have to be. I didn’t tell Tony or Pep about the building. They legitimately just want to see you. But I want you to talk to them. If nothing else they have good connections and perspective. I’m not saying ask them for money, but use the connections you have. They’re big ones.”

Bucky sighs. “Thank you...” 

Bucky is quiet and still, folding inward before forcing himself to finish the thought out loud. 

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I can ask.”

Steve steps closer to Bucky and picks up Bucky’s head. Bucky doesn’t look him in the eyes and Steve doesn’t make him. He just kisses Bucky on the lips as he tells Bucky to have a good day.

Bucky busies himself out on the floors for the rest of the day, knowing he won’t be able to concentrate if he stays in his office.

He gets a text from Steve. 

_6:00 P.M. okay? They know you have early mornings._

Bucky fights the urge to push his phone back in his pocket without responding, forcing himself to write “yep” in response before returning to his client.


	16. Steve

Steve is still a bit amazed at how easy it is to be with Bucky. He knows Bucky will show up tonight, and any hovering doubt is dwarfed by the fact that no way in hell would Bucky stand Tony Stark up. He feels a bit of guilt for pushing so hard, but hasn’t seen any major signs that this is more than Bucky being humble about what he’s doing and capable of. He wants to help Bucky and getting him funding will help. Steve pushes any doubts about his methods out of his mind.

When Steve gets back to the tower he realizes the pickle he’s just put himself into. He already checked Tony and Pepper’s availability, but he has made no arrangements for the evening. He knows he’ll need to get something delivered, but what?

He calls down to Pepper’s assistant, knowing that it's probably below Wanda’s pay grade, but he needs the help.

Wanda picks up before the second ring.

“Good morning, Captain Rogers. How can I help you?”

“Good morning, Wanda. I need your help. I’ve got Pepper and Tony and a (mostly) vegetarian coming over for dinner.”

“I see.” Steve can hear her giddy smile through the phone.

“What the hell should I order?”

“Just the four of you?”

“A spread from Kuma Inn should do the trick. Would you like me to put the order in from here? What is the best time for delivery?”

“Oh you’re a lifesaver Wanda, thank you. I’d like to actually eat at 6:30, so whatever that means.”

“How about I send Pietro up to help you set up at 5:30. Have him bring up some fresh flowers, help you set the table and serving dishes. Make it really easy on you.”

_Oh thank God._

“Yes, that would be wonderful.”

“Oh, and Wanda?”

“Yes?”

“What do I have to give you to get you to call me Steve?”

“A promotion.”

_Fair._

Steve responds with a chuckle, “I’m sure one’s coming. Thanks again, Wanda.”

Pietro arrives promptly at 5:30, nodding at Steve who welcomes him in.

Steve has pulled out cloth napkins and four sets of silverware but hadn’t gotten any further. 

In 15 minutes Pietro sets the table with china Steve has never seen before and lays out platters in the kitchen for the food with corresponding labels indicating each dish ordered and which are vegetarian.

A bottle of whiskey appears, accompanied by a bottle of red wine and a standing ice bucket with sparkling water, plus three extra bottles chilling in the fridge

Pietro looks out at the room, nudging a fork and turning the red wine bottle before giving Steve a quick nod on his way out the door.

Steve is still standing there gobsmacked at the beauty of his dining room and Pietro’s efficiency when Bucky knocks on his door.

Steve’s breath catches as he sees Bucky standing there, wine bottle in hand and weary smile on his face.

Bucky’s in a charcoal gray suit, blood red dress shirt, and black tie. His hair is in a tight, neat bun at the nape of his neck. He looks at Steve in his slacks and dress shirt.

“I guess I overcompensated for my normal gym wear.”

Steve grabs him by his shirt, pulling him into his apartment and scrambling to pull Bucky's body over his own. Bucky holds tight to the wine bottle as he wraps his arms around Steve’s neck and crushes his mouth against Steve’s with a chuckle.

After a moment, Bucky pulls away, “No Tony or Pepper yet?”

Steve shakes his head leaning back in. Bucky gives him a quick kiss before pulling away completely and leaving Steve behind in his doorway. 

Bucky flattens the front of his shirt and tucks it back in.

“At least take your jacket off. Tony won’t care what you look like, but Pepper is coming straight from work. She’ll want to take her heels off and she won’t get comfortable unless you do first.”

“If you really want me to be comfortable, then you should tell them not to come over.”

Steve does not admit out loud how tempting Bucky's offer is.

“You can do whatever you want to me after they leave.”

Bucky just glares at him. “All right, yes, you’ll get to do that anyway. Just tell me how can I make it worth your while?”

Bucky’s teeth scrape across his bottom lip as he looks at Steve. A conflicted groan rises from his throat. “If I wasn’t so nervous I might make you wear something...”

Steve balks, his face stilling as he looks deeper at Bucky.

Bucky steps closer. “I’ve got a nice little plug with a remote…” Bucky says as he squiggles his finger up Steve’s chest. “...could slip it inside, let you get used to it, wait so long you almost forget about it. Then turn it on after we’re almost finished with dinner...” Bucky walks two fingers up Steve’s neck and uses them to pull at Steve’s bottom lip.

A strangled noise seeps out between Steve’s clenched teeth, red rising beneath his neck, filling his cheeks.

“But you’re right. This is a serious business opportunity. I can’t get too distracted.”

“Fuck, Bucky, I -”

A sharp knock at the door breaks Bucky’s attention on Steve. Steve works to gather his breath. Bucky’s quicker at composing himself and is opening the door before Steve even begins to move towards it.

“Buckaroo!” Tony yells at the same time as Bucky ignores him in favor of greeting Pepper with a friendly handshake. “Pepper, so nice to meet you. Please come in.”

Steve turns towards his new guests smiling. “So glad you could make it.”

“Do I need to add him to the lease? Or are you just that rude, making your guests answer the door for you?” Tony asks.

“Bucky’s, ah, actually never been here before.”

“I haven’t even made it all the way inside yet.” Bucky says, motioning to the wine bottle still in his hand. “But it's a lovely entryway. Could just see the couch, too.”

“I’m sorry we come empty-handed,” Pepper says.

Steve scoffs, “You lent me Wanda and Pietro. Otherwise we’d be eating out of cans. You’ve done more than enough.”

Tony pops down on Steve’s couch, patting next to him in invitation for Pepper to sit - which she ignores. Tony looks more put together than he usually seems after a day in the lab, but it’s still early.

Steve comes up to Bucky to remove his suit jacket. Bucky lets him take it, juggling the wine bottle. “Can I get anyone a glass? It’s a very muscular, only slightly sweet, bright, hot white…” Bucky says as he looks directly at Steve.

“Yes, please. But I’ll help you in the kitchen,” Pepper says.

Bucky turns to Tony, asking the same question of him silently. Pepper interjects, “There’s whiskey, dear.”

“Three fingers, please,” he replies.

“Wanda sent me a list,” she says to Steve, anticipating his question. “Whisky for you, as well?”

He really is the only one without hosting skills. He’s undoubtedly the worst host in the room.

“Yes, thank you, Pepper.”

Steve doesn’t want to let Bucky out of his sight but knows that Pietro put out plenty of glasses and a bottle opener and that they are fully functioning adults and there is nothing he could add to the process of filling four glasses with different liquids.

He stands there awkwardly waiting for Tony to start. 

“What the hell, Steve? You haven’t had him over yet? He knows the way.”

“I like the gym. I like his place. There’s less to think about there.”

“How could there be less to think about at his place? I don’t think it could be any “less” than the way you decorated this place.”

He hasn’t decorated. That’s the point. Fully furnished, beautiful, but not his. He doesn’t know where to start. Bucky’s place tells a story. This place is a very nice hotel.

Bucky and Pepper return with their drinks. Steve stops Bucky before he moves to sit or give Steve his whisky. Bucky stands there, a drink in both hands, puzzled look at Steve, but he lets Steve come in close. Steve’s hands move towards his neck, holding the knot of his tie and working the other end through and trailing it around Bucky’s neck. He unbuttons Bucky’s top button before stepping away, folding the tie, and moving to put it with Bucky’s jacket. 

“Oh, is it that kind of party?” Tony says.

“No. I just want everyone to be comfortable,” Steve replies.

Pepper, who is sitting on the other end of the couch from Tony, slips off her heels.

“Thank you, Steve.”

Maybe he can be a good host.

The food arrives and Steve continues his good hosting streak by putting the different dishes in their pre-marked platters. Wanda, of course, did a perfect job in ordering a wide variety of small plates - which ultimately doesn’t matter to Steve who has to eat a ton and will eat just about anything - but he’s happy his guests will have options. 

Packed all together, the range of sharp and sweet aromas overwhelm and clash a bit, but Steve is certain he will enjoy everything. 

Everyone ribs on Steve during dinner, including Pepper, who praises his hosting abilities, adding that she is sure he would be able to set the table and arrange the flowers all by himself next time. Bucky joins in, too, but seems to hover close with a watchful eye to Steve’s reaction to what the others are saying.

Steve tries to deflect, bringing up Tony’s most recent robot project failure. Tony brushes it off as he’s done with many, often more explosive, past failures. 

Bucky helps Steve clear the table, stealing kisses in the kitchen and getting Steve to leave the majority of the clean up for later so they can join Tony and Pepper in the living room. 

After her third glass of wine, Pepper looks at Tony solemnly. “Took a call from Latveria today, begging us to get back into mass weapons production. Promised an order that would keep the company flush for the next 20 years.” 

Tony looks at her with concern and guilt. 

“I handled him, just like I have every other time, but this one sounded different” She looks to Steve. “I’m betting you’ll be hearing from him. I’ve left all of the details on the Avengers drive.”

Bucky’s shifts in his seat.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” Pepper says, picking up on his discomfort. “You’re not from Latveria are you?”

“No. I just wasn’t sure I should be hearing this. If it’s classified or a corporate secret or something.”

“No, Bucky,” Steve interjects. “I’m betting Stark runs a background check on you every three months with you being in his prototype program.”

“Basically constant monitoring, now that he’s with you.”

“Never knew I meant so much to you, Tony.”

“Just covering my ass. Can you imagine the blowback if he took you out while he was in my program and I’m the one sent you down there.”

“I don’t think that would be people’s first concern, Tony,” Pepper chides.

“Oh, but they’d get there. And self-preservation is my middle name.”

Everyone rolls their eyes. 

“I’ve heard sleep helps with that, too, you know,” says Bucky. 

“No way. My old man slept 20 hours a week, and look at him now.”

“He’s dead,” Pepper and Steve say in unison.

“It’s not because of his lack of sleep.”

“What it did to his impulse control certainly didn’t prolong his life,” Pepper retorts.

Tony stills. Steve fills the void, “So no loose ends on your end, Pepper? We can take over?”

“Pep’s held off the U.S. military. She says we’re good, we’re good.”

“I know, Tony. I was just making sure... speaking of the U.S. military, Pepper, you know Bucky does a ton of work with vets?”

The opening was just too good to pass up. Steve glances at Bucky, who's looking a bit annoyed, but doesn’t move or interject. 

“I do. I’m very proud that the Stark Foundation is able to underwrite memberships. Tony tells me great things about the place - in his own way. And the annual reports are appreciated, Bucky.”

“Thank you, Ms. Potts. Your generosity provides access to those who otherwise wouldn’t have it. These vets can be a stubborn bunch, but most of them remember enough of the old Tony Stark to want to stick it to him and will gladly make him pay for part of their recovery.”

“How are operations otherwise?” Pepper asks.

“Going well, with your support and some from the VA, the books look good.”

“The facilities are amazing Pep,” Steve says, “you really should take a trip.”

“But that might be changing, uh, the landlord wants to sell the building. And Brooklyn real estate isn't exactly cheap,” Bucky says.

“You’ve looked into buying?” Pepper asks. 

“Yes, I can get a loan for about half of what he’s asking and still stay afloat. But not the whole thing.”

“Jarvis,” Pepper says as she looks towards the ceiling, “leave a note for Wanda to call James Barnes tomorrow and schedule an appointment for later in the week, with me, for one hour.”

“Yes, Ms. Potts. Is there anything else?”

“No. Thank you Jarvis.”

“Bring your books and we’ll take a look at what the foundation can do. Does that work? You don’t need the money tomorrow, right?”

“No, I think that will work. But, I want to be clear I don’t want to push any other programs out from your funding.”

“Oh, no. No “nonprofit hunger games” here.”

“And I don’t think I can put on a gala… you and Tony have already done so much for me, but I’m not sure I have that much in me. Any connections or additional funding... it’s overwhelming honestly. I can’t thank you enough”

“We literally will never be able to do enough of this type of work to repay what the benefits and privileges we’ve received at the expense of others.” Pepper is stern and calm as she says it. Tony is stiller than Steve thinks he’s ever seen him, looking down into his whisky glass.

“The sacrifices you and your clients have given all of us can never be repaid. It should never have been taken in the first place. Tony and I still get rewarded for spending our money - we get incentives, we get tax breaks, while it is expensive, timely, and exhausting to be poor. 

“Tony and I are actually talking about taking Stark Industries private again. The changes we’ve made aren't enough and board members still seem to care about stock price above all. But it isn’t an easy lift.”

Bucky nods. “Thank you.”

Steve could not be prouder of Bucky, he inches closer on the couch.

“Let’s go out for dessert,” Steve announces, seemingly out of nowhere.

He gets mumbles from Pepper, Tony, and Bucky, none of whom seem particularly interested in moving. Steve bends over to Bucky to whisper, “I thought that’s how we could get rid of them….”

“It’s okay, Steve. No need,” he whispers back with a small grin.

“Jarvis will get us anything we want,” Tony says. “Jarvis - send up a jumbo black forest cake sundae - anyone want coffee - no? - and a triple shot mocha.”

“Tony, you said no lab,” Pepper says.

“Who said anything about going to the lab?” 

Pepper glares.

“Tony, what’s so important it can’t wait?” Steve asks.

“The three of you have given me lots of ideas and feelings of inadequacy this evening, so I welcome any other appropriately distracting yet useful activities that can happen outside the lab.”

Pepper turns around in her seat, pressing her forearms into his chest, looking into him. “No lab.”

“It’s not even 9:00, Pep.”

“I know. My first meetings not until 9:00 A.M. I’ll be able to sleep in, if you’d like the company.”

“Oh - OH - okay - uh - Jarvis? Where is that giant dessert thing. Can you cancel it?”

“It is already in route, sir.”

“Okay. Bring it here, but redirect the espresso to our floor.”

“As you wish, sir.”

“Thank you, Jarvis,” Pepper says.

They both rise from the oversized chair, Pepper grabbing her heels as they hustle towards the door. She thanks them profusely for a wonderful evening.

“Enjoy the chocolate cherry explosion that is coming your way, lads. It comes with a balsamic plum ice cream... I think you’ll enjoy,” Tony says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. 

Steve and Bucky wave to them at the doorway as Tony shuffles Pepper towards the elevator. The doors open onto the behemoth of a dessert. Tony swipes his fingers in the whip cream and puts it on his own lips, jetting them out for Pepper to kiss. She laughs, uncaring about the presence of the servers, Bucky, or Steve, and obliges him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Nonprofit Hunger Games” is a term coined by Vu Le. He’s got a great blog and if you are at all interested in social services and the nonprofit sector in the U.S. you should check it out.  
<https://nonprofitaf.com/2015/08/the-nonprofit-hunger-games-and-what-we-must-do-to-end-them/>.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments feed the soul.
> 
> There’s lots of talk about recovery and mental health... some of its pretty obvious/blunt because that’s honestly what I need and what I think these two sometimes need. Sorry i ain’t got time to be subtle. ;)


End file.
